#if someone made this poll before which. I’m sure they have FORGIVE ME this is my own little experiment | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luxwritesfanfic · 3 years

Text

On Tap

Sherlock insists that it would work better with the reader on top and after the night they’ve had, there’s no point in arguing. Or, the one where reader plays superhero for poor Greg and her beloved detective. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You hadn’t even taken your shoes off when your phone started ringing in your purse. Sighing, you dug around for it with one hand and reached for the lightswitch with the other. Work had been incredibly stressful since you were working short during flu season and everyone in London had been feeling under the weather apparently. You had told your coworkers that if they really needed you that you would come back even though you had put a solid 16 hours in. Sherlock and John had gone out for John’s bachelor party so you didn’t mind working late, and Bucky was visiting his brother in the States so all your time was truly yours. You had thought about soaking in the bath or catching up on that show you always missed, but all of those thoughts were stopped in their tracks when the ringing persisted.

“Hey, what’s up?” You tried not to sound like you’d rather chew on glass than clock one more minute into the hospital but you weren’t sure you were so convincing.

“Come get him. Please, for the love of God, come get him.” At hearing Greg’s voice, you were both relieved yet confused. Sherlock must’ve invited him last minute to celebrate with them, you didn’t remember him saying that he was coming along.

“Oh, I didn’t know you went out with the boys! Where are you guys?” It was nice to know they were all having a good time. You liked Greg and thought he was a really good friend for Sherlock and John. You had plopped down on the couch and had started pulling one of your shoes off when he said, “No, I didn’t go with them. They were brought to me. Someone called the cops on them and now I’ve got tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum arguing about the solar system and taking turns puking in my waste bin. Please, I beg of you, come get him. Matter of fact, I can bring him home. If that makes the process quicker--- I mean easier.” You heard Sherlock trying to take Greg’s phone in the background, asking to talk to you and then quickly after arguing with John once more if it was really that important he knew they orbited the sun. Greg sounded just as exhausted as you felt and you could only imagine how annoyed he was by the drunk detective that he was already annoyed with most of the time sober.

“Yeah, yeah of course I’ll come get him. I’m actually at my flat though, so if you could meet me at his place that would be awesome. I’d just need a few minutes to finish up here...” You mourned the hot bath you were never going to get to take and worked on shoving the shoe you just took off back on, “did you call Mary for John?”

“Yes, she’ll be over soon. As soon as she gets here, I’ll bring Sherlock. You’re doing the Lord’s work, thank you.” With that, he hung up and you went to your room to pack an overnight bag. You were exhausted and if you had to go all the way to Sherlock’s, it would be easier for you to crash on the couch than to try to come back home late.

By the time you got to Sherlock’s, you were dragging your feet up the stairs and you could barely keep your eyes open. You had received a text from Mary when she picked John up saying “good luck” and you wished you knew what you were walking into. You had never seen Sherlock drunk, or heard any stories of him being drunk, but you were sure he was even more eccentric than he was sober. If you weren’t so tired, you’d be jumping with joy at the experience to see Sherlock so out of character.

You went into Sherlock’s room and laid out some pajamas for him and went ahead and put a water bottle and some Advil on his nightstand because you were sure he would need it. After doing that, you changed into something more comfortable too and rummaged through his fridge to see if there was anything to eat. Thumbs, unsalted butter, and milk that shouldn’t look like blue cheese was what was on the menu and you had decided sleep for dinner sounded much more appetizing. You’d go shopping for him tomorrow.

Greg had texted that he was outside but Sherlock didn’t have his key so you made your way down the steps to meet them. Upon opening the door, Sherlock looked up at you like he hasn’t seen you in ages. He stumbled towards you and held you at arms length with a look of wonder on his face. “Finally! Y/N, I was thinking I’d die from being surrounded by total stupidity, and here you are. Ever the shining light and the beacon of hope.”

You felt the heat from his stare and turned to Greg to try and keep your composure under all his attention. “Uh.. I— thank you. For bringing him home.”

Still staring at Sherlock and shocked by his outburst, Greg met your eyes with a knowing smile. “It’s no trouble. He’s your problem now. Good luck, my dear.” He was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving you with a very drunk Sherlock Holmes and a dozen steps to climb.

“Okay,” you clapped your hands together, turning towards the door, “do you think you can get up the stairs? Or do you want me to help you?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he started until his eyes widened like he forgot who he had been talking to. It had only been a second but he saw the look that flashed across your face. You hated when he made you feel dumb because you always tried so hard to keep up with him, and he knew that. You didn’t have a chance to react before he quickly interrupted. His previous statement was immediately followed by, “I’m sorry. Forgive me. Please help me.”

You just nodded, unsure of what made him have such a quick change of heart but you were happy he did. You hated him thinking you were dumb. In comparison to him, maybe, but you were intelligent in your own right and you did a better job of keeping up with him than most. He threw his arm around your shoulders to steady himself and allowed you to lead him carefully up the stairs. He started telling you about his night and it honestly sounded like he had a great time, and so did John. You were really happy that it all worked out even if they did end up with Greg at the end of it all.

As soon as the back of Sherlock’s legs hit his chair, he was down in a clean swoop and you took the opportunity to start untying his shoes. He seemed like he was lost in thought and was quiet for a few moments but you could tell from the way he was swaying that he was too far gone to sober up before the morning.

“I already put your clothes out for you and I’ll help you to the bathroom so you can brush your teeth. You’ll love me for that in the morning.” You smiled at him as you pulled off his loafers and moved to stand up so that you could figure out how you were going to get him out of his chair.

“Will I, though? Will I tomorrow once I’m in my right mind?” He asked, and while he didn’t say it in an ignorant tone, it sounded like Sherlock, and that was close enough.

You looked at him hoping he’d say something else. But he didn’t, and he looked back at you with a look of confusion as if he was really expecting you to answer that. It seemed like just last week he was in your bed trying to convince you that he didn’t have eyes for anyone besides you and now he’s reminding you that he’s not even sure of that. Sherlock could have you at the top of the poll and then have you kissing the ground in the same hour if he tried.

“It’s just a saying. I didn’t really mean...you know, let’s— let’s just get you to bed. It’s late and you have a date with a hangover in the morning.” You could tell he was on the verge of passing out which was good in the way of no more awkward conversations but horrible in that you’d never get him into bed as dead weight. So you pushed things along and eventually got him in bed before he was out like a light.

Draping the blanket over him, you watched as his eyes fluttered behind his lids and how his lips twitched as fell into a deeper sleep and you were sure then that you would never love anyone more. You would never understand how he didn’t realize how beautiful he made the ordinary and how easily he made everything extraordinary. Afraid that you’d turn to stone if you spent any more time staring at him, you turned off his light and made your way to the living room where the the couch had never looked more inviting. It didn’t take you long to get settled in and asleep seeing as the TV in the background ended up being the perfect thing to mask Sherlock’s drunk snores and you had never been more tired in your life.

—

“I thought you were staying over?”

It had only been a few hours since you had put Sherlock to bed when he found himself looking over you on the couch, wrapped up in his bedsheet.

“M’right here.” You murmured into the pillow, body still turned away from Sherlock on the couch. He was probably still drunk and you were hoping if you laid still enough he’d wander back to bed.

He didn’t respond to you, instead he continued to stand and stare with his lips pursed and brows furrowed. You had drifted back off only to be nudged awake once more.

“I won’t fit like that.” He gestured with the hand not holding the sheet to the couch, sounding exasperated like he had been explaining this to you all night. “It’ll only work if you’re on top, so get up so I can lie down first.”

You didn’t process what he said really, you just knew that if he was being persistent and you didn’t do as he asked he’d never let you go back to bed. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the light and swung your legs off the couch, standing on stiff bones. Sherlock immediately made to get comfortable on the couch while you stood dazed and confused and he cleared his throat expectantly when he had finally got settled. He was on his back with one arm holding the sheet up between himself and the back of the couch allowing room for you to climb over and snuggle right into him.

All you could do was blink and hold his stare as he waited expectantly, still holding the sheet for you. You didn’t think he was asking you to lay with him, especially with how close you’d two be. Sure, you shared your bed before, but there was always enough room for you both to have your own space. You could tell he was getting embarrassed by your reaction, or lack there of.

“I didn’t think this would be rocket science, even for someone like you.” His nervousness was showing as he yanked his arm back down and curled into to himself like a child. You jumped into action so you wouldn’t upset him any more and shook his shoulder as you whined, partially from exhaustion and from missing the chance to sleep next to him.

“I’m tired, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize what you were asking. Come on, open up. Let me in.” You continued to shake at his shoulder until he looked back at you. He looked wrecked from drinking all night and you knew this bout of sobriety wouldn’t be as easy on him in the morning but you were sure he looked holy.

Sherlock reluctantly brought his arm up again and you wasted no time sliding under the sheet and tucking yourself under the crook of his arm. He smelled like beer and mouthwash and Sherlock and you thought you were going to go into cardiac arrest when he brought his arm back down on you, subsequently pinning you down to him. It was definitely a tight fit especially since the couch barely fit Sherlock but you had decided that if you had the opportunity to sleep with him like this every night that you would. Back pain be damned.

The steadiness of his heartbeat was already working you back to sleep. Sighing content, you let your body fully relax and sink further into him.

“You never answered my question.” He shifted next to you and kept you close to him all the same, his head leaning to rest on yours.

“Hmm?” You made an incoherent sound, your breath evening out as you fell asleep.

“My question,” he whispered more so to himself as he worked it out in his head. The feelings he found himself harboring for you were ones he had never felt before. He thought so highly of you in a way he couldn’t understand even if he wasn’t the best at expressing it. You were patient with him when he got on your last nerve and was amazed by him when other people would tell him to piss off. You were always kind and warm and made him feel human even after he spent so long separating himself from his feelings. He couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at anyone else the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

So yes, he thought. Yes, he would love you in the morning. He’d love you when you’re angry with him for putting himself at risk during a case and he’d love you when you were overly tired and petulant after he made you stay up all night to keep him company in the lab. He loved that you valued him regardless of what he offered you, and that you always showed him that even if he never reciprocated it. You were never embarrassed by him, you always tried to learn about what he was interested in, and you never doubted him even when he was wrong.

Girlfriends weren’t naturally his area... but he didn’t think he would mind if it was you. He liked being close to you and physical touch wasn’t something he had sought out often before. He found that he chased the opportunity to be near you at all times. He thought you looked lovely in scrubs and a lab coat and even lovelier in your everyday wear, even if you considered it plain. He had begun to notice the way other people stared at you when you walked by and it left him with the most unsettling feeling. But then you’d smile at him and despite himself he’d smile right back and he wondered if anything in the world mattered to you besides him. Because in those moments, nothing mattered to him besides you.

Sherlock woke up alone again the next morning with the worst headache he’d ever had. Light was shining through the curtains and he cursed the sun for rising another day as he covered his eyes and groaned. Peaking through his fingers, he saw that the Advil and water had been moved to the coffee table for him and when he reached out for it he noticed the note on the table. He sat up with one hand gingerly holding his head as he read it.

“Got called into work to help the girls. John and Mary are coming over for lunch, so text me what you want me to bring home. We can’t serve our best friends buttered thumbs for lunch. I’ll see you soon!

-Y/N xx”

He held the note in his hand, contemplating what his next move would be. You were interested in him, that he knew for sure. He’d contemplated casually mentioning to everyone that you were dating, but he technically hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend and you two had never talked about any mutual feelings. Maybe he’d kiss you when walking you to your taxi, but he knew he’d make you stay with him instead of letting you go home. Possibly tonight when you were laying in his bed he’d tell you it had to be you, it could only ever be you.

Leaning back against the couch, he rubbed at his eyes and decided he’d call John over early and he’d help him sort it out. John always helped him. Standing up was harder than it looked apparently, as Sherlock wobbled to the side and fought the urge to puke. Perhaps he should shower first, surely you wouldn’t say yes to being his if he didn’t look his best.

He remembered how he looked and acted last night and winced. On second thought, maybe you would. You had already given yourself to him for better or for worse and soon enough, he smiled, he would give you himself in return.

776 notes · View notes

cuddlesslut · 3 years

Text

Part Seven: Regrets

Atsumu x fem reader, Suna x rem reader, Hinata x fem reader

A/N: guess who’s fridge went out and won’t be able to get a new one till the 15th 🙋🏻‍♀️😩. Sorry this chapter is shorter than usual it’s kind of a filler But next chapter should be pretty long. I know a couple of people were wonder what happened with him so here we are with the return of a character. I might set up a poll for who should YN end up with so look out for that. I’m going to start writing my next story soon it’s going to be another angst!

Warning: Angst that’s about it. Maybe a lil lewd language.

Part Six: Promises

Part Eight: Hope

He laid in his empty bed staring up at his ceiling the only sound filtering through the room was the echo of the tv in the livingroom. He didn’t have the energy to go shut it off, plus he found comfort the noise it brought he found the silence unbearable. He sighed as he looked at the open space next to him. He never took much stock in how empty it felt without you next to him. The smell of your shampoo had long since vanished from the pillows. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine you were here next to him your head resting on his chest your hands interwoven talking about your plans for the day but while the memory played in his head clear as day his body had forgotten your warmth. It wasn’t too hard to picture , you had spent several morning just like that wrapped in each other’s embrace. He thinks to the mornings he’d walk out of his early showers to find you leaning against the kitchen counter drinking your morning coffee. He can still remember how you enjoyed your first cup of coffee to start your day. You liked your coffee sweet , but to were you could still taste the rich coffee flavor, always pairing it with an array of creamers. He remembers when you first started staying over at his place and he realized your affinity for flavored coffee he went out to the store and stocked up on as many flavors he could find in hopes you’d stay for more coffee before heading off to school. He loved that sight in the morning walking out and seeing you clad in just his shirt your hair a mess from last nights activities. But you weren’t here to have coffee in the morning, all of the creamers starting to expire, and he had no one to blame but himself.

Atsumu has spent the last seven month alone. There were a few nights he’d tried to pick up girls just to try and fill the gigantic hole left in his life by your absence but those all ended in disaster. One night he tried to have a careless hook up it didn’t get past the front door when he accidentally moaned your name when the random girl had cupped his manhood. She wasn’t very happy about that. He received a knee to the groin as she fleed the house. Another time he tried he was able to keep his mouth shut from making any mistakes after choosing a girl who was nothing like you but then he had another problem. He couldn’t get it up. You plagued his thoughts. You were the only woman his body wanted. It was quite embarrassing.

After Suna rocked his shit he finally started to snap out of his self pity. Why the hell was he crying? Because he was lonely? He can only imagine how lonely you felt every night he didn’t come home. He sighs running his hands down his face he really was a piece of shit he thinks. He didn’t treat you the way you deserved and he knows that. He knows he was selfish and inconsiderate. He knows he’s way to late but he regrets everything he did. Every single mistake eats away at him. None of it was worth it. Every flirt, every compliment that boosted his ego, the rush of excitement of being with someone else it was all worthless compared to being with you. He thinks back to everynight he stayed out late or he canceled dates, about the pain that hid behind your eyes. Now that his head wasn’t stuck up his ass he could finally see all of the misery he put you through. And he hated himself for it.

The setter wanted nothing more that to fix all of his mistakes, but he knew he was too late. Atsumu didn’t expect you to ever in a thousand years forgive him or even in a million years want him back, but he knows he can’t just do nothing. He’d spend the rest of his days trying to make amends. After Suna had pointed out how horrible he was for not looking for you he did everything to find you. He started by calling the University to see if you had been attending class but even with the title of fiancé , which he understood was false by not adding former to the title, they refused him any information to protect your privacy. He had long noticed the empty bank account but he wasn’t worried about that the money it was the least you deserved. Plus the fantasy of making you his wife and calling you YN Miya was nothing but a pipe dream now. So he’s sure the money would do you better. He tried to follow any money trail you left. He found the hotel that you must have run to that night. But even that was a bust leading to a dead end. He only knew one more course of action. He called your parents. They refused to answer his calls. Eventually he drove down to Hyogo by himself. The setter stood there on the front steps he’d stand on every morning when he’d walk you to school. It felt so familiar to knock on the cedar door, but everything felt so distant from his memories. Still he wasn’t quite sure what he expected, maybe for you to answer the door with a bright smile like you had all those years ago yet what he received was your mother standing there with a look of disgust present. He didn’t get a word in before she slammed the door in his face. He begged for her come back to please talk to him he just needed answers but he only received silence. He stayed there for close to an hour trying to get just a morsel of information. It was useless they refused to speak to him. That was his last idea he could come up with for finding you. Full of dread he made his way to his car ready to make the long drive home. The next day he received a phone call from his brother.

“Hey Samu what’s u-” the blonde started before his grey haired twin interrupted his greeting going straight to the point.

“She’s alive and fine,” Atsumus heart stuttered before he breathed a sigh of relief. He opened his mouth to ask his next question but Osamu cut him off yet again already knowing what his twin was going to ask.

“No we don’t know where she is. Kita-Senpai went to her parents and all they’d state was she was alive and out of harm, not that I’d tell you where she is if I knew,” Osamu’s tone was sharp. Atsumu knew he deserved that. His brother had made him well aware of his dissatisfaction in the blondes actions. He had to thank the his brother though, as upset he was with him he still looked out for him. Always checking up on him making sure he was eating and keeping up with his hygiene, throwing away all the liquor he could find because as disappointed he was with Atsumu he couldn’t let him tear himself apart.

“I know Samu, thank you for telling me.” He spoke softly before clicking the end call button.

He accepted that it was best he stayed out of your life. He wanted to make everything up to you and if staying out of your life was wanted then he’d respect your wishes. He spent the next months bettering himself. He cut all alcohol out of his life. Only going out when it was with his teammates although that was a rare occurrence they were also quite disappointed with how he had treated you, especially his wing spiker Sakusa. Omi-Omi had always had a soft spot for you. But still they didn’t let it affect their game play. He focused all of his energy on volleyball. He even started going to a few therapy sessions for his self distructive behaviors and impulses. He really wanted to do and be better if not for you then for himself. Although he still had trouble being home alone without you, never feeling quite whole. With out you this house would never truly be his home again. He was starting to get better and not drown in agony every morning he woke up alone although he knew he deserved it. One step that had made the process easier was boxing up the remainder of your belongings that you had left. For so long he had kept everything just as you left it hopeful for your return thinking maybe everything could go back to normal and life could be picked up where it was left off although this time he’d swear to never hurt you again. It was unrealistic to think that though. His therapist had told his several times it was a step he needed to take and while it took several months he was finally able to remove any trace from the house. That night he cried him self to sleep from the finality that came from not seeing a piece of you around as though you had never been there in the first place.

He regretted not cherishing you for the amazing woman you are. He’ll never forgive himself for losing the best thing to everything to happen to him. At Seven months since that night he was finally able to breath when he went home, not suffocating from regret every moment present in those walls. The Jackals were on a winning streak and even more exciting they had just got a new member. And after all these years he was able to hold up at least one promise he had made after breaking so many at least he could fulfill one promise by finally getting to set for Shoyo Hinata.

Home Masterlist

Taglist is Open

Taglist: @animeboihoe @karlitabi-rrito @mutli-fandom-fanfic @comically-sleep-deprived @madmelle @momoinot @eggbutnotyolk @yunhosblackgf @6sakusa @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @a-fucking-simp @its-babybitch @sakusasonlywife @japanushiiiii @dekuspet @sredamancy @haikyuusimp91 @shoyosbitchh @far-off-dream @tsukkisfatsimp @nestlevanilla @simply-not-the-same @porcolie @uwubby-1 @ahopefulbouquetcollection @graykageyama @elianetsantana @allykat7599 @airybnb @wonhomarshmallow @minnieminnie00-got7 @weebtato

Bolded accounts couldn’t be tagged

339 notes · View notes

marble-guts · 4 years

Note

Ahsoka and Padmé bonding for your prompts

hi, anon, I don’t even know if you’ll see this because it took me months to write this. but i hope that you do see it and i hope that you enjoy it because this was a lot of fun to write.

read on ao3

The realization that her husband was trying to keep his padawan a secret brought tears of laughter to Padmé’s eyes.

Few people were worse with secrets than Anakin Skywalker.

Their marriage had been one of those secrets that Padmé had worked far harder to keep. Anakin had been a stranger to secrecy until their marriage.

It had taken nights of creativity and bottles of wine, along with years of practice to develop a code. Small smiles only seen in the eyes had become soft caresses, real smiles were a whispered ‘I love you’. When he called her ‘Senator’, in that mock serious tone of his, Padmé couldn’t help but feel as though he had lifted her off of her feet. She hoped that he felt the same when she called him ‘Jedi Knight Skywalker.’

The code wasn’t established to be covert, but created with just enough of a gap where they could excuse their behavior as close friendship. Many senators had connections to the Jedi, their true feelings were just as masked as Padmé’s marriage. She supposed it was a superpower, being able to see through others’ facades, recognizing similar coded languages. When Satine blinked long and slow, it didn’t take long for Obi-Wan to leave the room, and moments later for her to excuse herself.

Anakin’s attempts at secrecy were nowhere near as well constructed without her help. Padmé had seen the girl in the holo transmission from Jabba’s Palace on Tatooine. Anakin had done nothing to hide her, he had been too awestruck by Padmé’s intervention into Jedi affairs to care, calling her ‘Senator Amidala’ and thanking her graciously for her actions.

She had panicked, however, and ended the transmission curtly, forgetting to give Anakin a goodbye.

It had only made things worse when Anakin missed several of their scheduled calls. She hadn’t received word from him, and the HoloNet News had gone silent about the movements of the Open Circle Fleet as well.

Padmé had busied herself with news articles, looking for any trickling of an update on the Outer Rim. There was no news of any of them, not Anakin, Obi-Wan, or this Togruta girl. The questions that had first arisen in her mind upon seeing Anakin’s padawan, other than how she came to be his, were quickly pushed down with questions of their general safety.

The Senate was usually kept quiet about current operations, especially when they were far from the Core worlds. It was a matter of security, being able to keep intelligence out of the hands of spies and revolutionaries. The HoloNews satisfied its readers with puff pieces about the newest worthwhile restaurants on Coruscant and reader polls about the hottest Jedi (in which her husband made the top three).

It had become a small distraction, one that kept her from biting her nails off of her fingertips. It hadn’t taken long for other distractions to take over her mind as well. Padmé had welcomed it, allowing her feelings of nostalgia to take over.

Thoughts about the Togruta girl had changed too. Along with worry about the girl’s safety, Padmé worried if she was old enough to be a Padawan, if she was okay seeing the war up close as a teenager. She thought of how it had changed Anakin’s relationship with Obi-Wan, how having Anakin at his side had matured Obi-Wan and brought out another side of him.

The HoloNews talked about Anakin and Obi-Wan as though they were the same force, the same weapon utilized by the Republic. Padmé walked past the posters every time she snuck into the lower levels, smothering her laughter behind her sleeve as Anakin’s silhouette told her to support the GAR.

She wondered how long it would take for the HoloNews to put Anakin’s padawan in the spotlight. The girl would wake up one day and find her face on a poster decorating every free wall of Coruscant’s underworld, her name in headlines with various senators, and photos of her at dinner with friends accompanied with rumors of affairs and other unsavory behavior.

The girl’s absence in the news was a blessing in disguise, Padmé decided, no matter how badly it worried her.

She put her energy into work again. The Senate had been in gridlock over additional proposals to the Republic’s budget. It had left little money to cover refugee relief, but she had assured Bail and others that any additional support was necessary. In return, they had promised their votes and efforts to garner more.

Nights were quickly filled with banquets, attendance to performances, dinners, and dramatic readings quickly followed up with discussions of politics and semantics. Her evenings were spent with Bail fighting over her word choice and falling asleep on the couch in her den, datapad dead by morning.

Democracy was a whirlwind, exhausting and chaotic, but one that Padmé enjoyed wholeheartedly.

The Senate session came to a quick close as the Chancellor adjourned their unsuccessful meeting. He turned back and headed towards the doors that led to his office, a small gaggle of senators followed behind, as well as reporters, hoping for a headline.

Padmé shook her head, the bill up for discussion, still in her hand. She felt Bail’s hand come down onto her shoulder and give her a squeeze.

“I’m sure, if we just edit the beginning again, perhaps to rephrase it less about refugees, and more about… possible immigration to Coruscant, or something else more personal, they’ll change their minds,” Bail said with a heavy sigh.

Padmé took a deep breath to release her disappointment. “I know you’re right, but I don’t want to have to beg for basic empathy.”

“Such is the nature of politics,” Bail said with a small laugh. “If you’re not begging them for something, you’re not paying attention.”

She smiled a little, straightening. “I suppose that’s true as well.”

“I’ll contact your office in the morning, perhaps we can rewrite that preamble before the expansion bill moves forward,” the soft weight of his hand left her shoulder, “we did good work today, Padmé.” He turned to leave, joining the fray of senators as they all exited through the halls of the Senate Rotunda.

“We did, thank you, Bail.”

She turned back to gather her things, the other datapad she had brought with her to take notes, the simple coat she had worn in against the brisk morning chill.

“Oh, Padmé,” Bail said, nearly startling her.

She looked up from her belongings to find him there, still there near her repulsorpod, trapped against the movement of senators exiting the Chambers.

“I believe there’s someone here for you.”

Padmé moved to stand beside him, hoping to find this someone. Captain Typho usually remained near the ship, waiting for her to return. Occasionally, if she took too long, he would send a handmaid after her.

Instead, she had found her husband, leaning against the opposite wall and trapped in a conversation with Senator Orn Free Taa. He had met eyes with her halfway through the conversation, one where she could nearly sense his boredom. Anakin politely excused himself at the same time that Bail had left her side.

The two senators of the Loyalist Committee quickly fell into step with one another, continuing conversation. Anakin took the chance to cross the hall, instantly slipping his arm around her waist.

Padmé’s face warmed instantly, she took a step back, eyes wide. “Ani, public!” She said quickly, hushed under her breath.

“Senator Amidala, I’m sure you can forgive me,” he said, just as softly. “It’s been months since I’ve seen my wife, Senator.”

The heat of an embarrassed, but loving flush against her face only increased. “ Master Jedi, I'm sure I understand your… predicament, but we’ll have to discuss this matter somewhere else. Would you give me the pleasure of dining with me tonight?”

He looked almost startled by her question. Padmé wanted to pull him aside, out of the public eye, out of the emptying Senate Chambers and into a desolate hall. Instead, she brought her free hand down to his, linking her little finger with one of his.

He smiled, too much for them to just be friends, meeting after a long time apart. Padmé’s heart beat double at the danger of being found out. She wanted so badly to lean into him, to kiss him hello, welcome home, I love you, I missed you, remind me what it’s like to be yours--

Anakin’s fingers hooked around hers a little tighter. “Let’s get away from here.”

She led him through the Senate squabble with the precision only a female senator had. Padmé quickly crossed the hall towards another, where the auditorium rooms became small meeting rooms. Anakin laughed softly, following her as she opened one of the rooms towards the end with her key code.

The door slid open, the warm lights came to life as Anakin took the chance to bring his arms around her, picking her up into his arms and spinning her before meeting for a kiss. Padmé’s hands came up to his face, her fingers ran through his messy hair, longer and more bronze, now in the time they had been apart. His lips moved from hers to her cheek, then her chin, her neck, almost to the collar of her dress as his hands moved against the buttons holding the fabric in place.

“Ani, no,” she said with a giggle like a schoolgirl. “Let me just look at you,” she said, hoping that he could understand the need in her voice.

He pulled away just enough for their eyes to meet. “We only have a few more minutes before Typho sends in Karté.”

Padmé felt the same desperation, the need to pull at the belt of his robes, to slip the leather tabards off of his shoulders and discard layers of Jedi attire. The feeling of want and need in her chest were almost unbearable, fighting against her shaking fingers.

An exercise in restraint, she told herself. For the both of them.

Her hands moved from his hair to his face. Anakin closed his eyes, relaxing underneath her soft touch as she searched for new wounds.

The last time she had seen him, he had had a bandage over his eye, laughing about how he had nearly lost it and how it would’ve matched his arm. It hadn’t been very funny when she had started to cry, realizing again just how vulnerable her husband was. The wound had scarred over, soft and pink with new skin.

She traced over it carefully, mesmerized by the gentle precision of it. To think that it had happened in a duel with a woman he had described as unhinged. Padmé’s thoughts of Anakin rarely involved duels. The Jedi were peacekeepers, and although the war had put them into various military positions, she knew that her husband’s job was more focused on aggressive negotiations than dueling a witch in the rain.

Now, his duties had transformed. Anakin was more than just a Jedi, he was a Jedi Master . His responsibilities were more than the Republic, more than his battalion of men-- he had a child to consider. A young, small, no doubt fast, child with bright blue, inquisitive eyes. Padmé thought of the girl in the holo transmission, how she had looked between the two of them, unsure of how to act between her new master and a senator.

She opened her mouth to speak, to begin her barrage of questions that had built up over days and nights of constant worrying. Before she could make a sound, Anakin kissed her, passionately enough to make her knees weak.

Her fingers slipped from the smoothness of his scar back into his bronze curls. He smelled of the night air, crisp and sweet. His hands held her tight, allowing her to soak in his presence, to feel her entire body relax against him as though he was the only source of gravity in the galaxy.

It sent a body down her spine directly to her toes. Her husband, Anakin Skywalker, was here with her, and they were in a conference room.

She brought her hands closer to herself, hoping to break him apart just enough to undo the belt securing his robes. Padmé had quickly become an expert in the many layers of Jedi attire in their small stint on Naboo. She fought with the small metal clasp holding all of his layers of formality together. His hands moved lower down her back as he broke apart from their kiss, only for a second to snicker as she tried to unclasp it again, her fingers not cooperating under the realization that they had a few moments of privacy.

“What are you trying to do?” He asked, after a few more moments of her struggling, a laugh hidden under his voice.

Padmé pulled back just enough to look up at him without bumping her head into his chin. “This is a new belt, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Anakin murmured, moving in closer. His blue eyes were almost hypnotic, coaxing her into another kiss so deep she melted in his arms. “Why are you trying to undress me, Senator? This could start a scandal,” he said quietly, his fingertips tickling at her sides.

She squirmed a little, smiling wide. “Maybe I want to start a scandal, Master Jedi.”

“Master Jedi?” He picked her up just enough to place her on the nearest table. “I like that.”

A knock at the door separated them as though they were the same side of two magnets.

Anakin’s eyes glanced at the door, his face turned bright red as Padmé hastily slid down from the table. She hoped that she didn’t look too much in disarray. She almost felt guilty for having nearly undressed her husband, messing up his beautiful hair, leaving the light pink smudge of her lips on the corner of his mouth. Padmé glanced to the door, finding Typho’s back to the door, guarding her already.

Her face flushed with embarrassment as she straightened Anakin’s robes. She smudged at the makeup she had left on him, enough to make him blush.

“Leaving your mark?”

“Removing it,” she said quietly. “You’ll still come to dinner tonight, won’t you?”

Anakin’s hand came to rest on hers, pressing his lips to her fingers. “Of course, angel.”

“It almost surprised me, you know, to see you standing there with a padawan learner,” Padmé said from the kitchenette, pouring two glasses of Alderaanian wine. Almost, she had said, emphasizing it. Anakin was unpredictable in some ways, yes; but in following through with what the Jedi expected of him, never. “I remember you saying that you would never take a learner,” she continued.

He stayed where he was behind her, putting his arm around her middle and resting his head on top of hers. “You’ve cut your hair since the last time I was home,” he said, hoping desperately to keep the girl a secret. Padmé could almost sense his discomfort, he already knew where the conversation was going.

She leaned her head back against him, “she looks too young, Ani.” Padmé placed the bottle down on the counter and reached for her own glass. She had poured less for Anakin, knowing he would barely touch it.

He exhaled softly, Padmé felt his breath stir a few stray pieces of her hair. “She’s thirteen.”

The glass would have slipped from her hand to the floor if Anakin hadn’t caught it. The wine splattered against the tile, sprinkling the skirt of her new nightgown. It was all instantly forgotten as Anakin let go of her, placing the glass on the counter and moving to find a towel.

Thirteen. It echoed in her mind as though he had said it into a cave.

“That’s too young.” Padmé said quickly, not moving from her spot. “Anakin, that’s too young.”

“You were queen at that age, love,” he said from around the corner. He returned with a towel and started to clean up the mess that she had created.

Padmé brought a hand to her face. “I was queen at fourteen,” she corrected, “and even then I felt like I was too young. I had advisors, extensive training--”

Anakin frowned, looking at the floor as he cleaned up the wine. “Ahsoka is mature for her age, the Council wouldn’t have let her become a padawan if she wasn’t ready.”

Ahsoka. Finally, Padmé had been given a name to put to the bright-eyed girl. Ahsoka, thirteen, and on several battlefields already. She thought of how many times Anakin had returned home, weary and broken from what he had seen, what he had done for the Republic. Her heart pounded in her chest, her stomach felt heavy, as though the single sip of wine had been to swallow down a stone.

“I’m not questioning her abilities, but Anakin, you know she’s still a child. The things you’ve seen, the things you’ve already lived through in this war… for a thirteen year old girl to live through that as well?”

He glanced up from the floor, his hands wet and sticky with wine. “I know, Padmé, but I can’t do anything about it.” He stood, wringing out the towel into the sink. “According to Obi-Wan, this is normal. Kids can become padawans as young as twelve.”

Padmé took the other glass of wine, the one she had poured for him, and swallowed down to get rid of the stone that had found its way into her throat. “Thirteen and already dealing with the Hutts,” she said softly.

Anakin smirked a little, pouring her another glass of wine. “It could be worse, she could be fourteen and leading a planet through a siege by the TechnoUnion, or--”

Her own accomplishments were of little matter in this conversation. Padmé stopped him with a look, meeting his blue eyes. “What else have you and Ahsoka done? What have your last few missions been?”

She could see him giving in already, sighing as he placed the cloth on the counter before rinsing off his hands. “Padmé,” he kept his voice soft and low, a chill traced down her arm, curling her fingers. “Are we really going to spend the night talking about Ahsoka?”

Oh, how he knew her and how dirty it was of him to even try to rekindle the conference room, and to do so in her kitchen. Padmé’s chill quickly turned hot with a slight flicker of anger and annoyance.

“Yes!” She said, taking the bottle of wine from the counter, as well as her glass. She walked out into the den, leaving Anakin in the kitchenette to deal with his thirst.

“She’s thirteen, Anakin!” Padmé flopped down onto the comfiest couch, pulling her legs up onto the cushions before placing down the bottle. “How many times have you nearly died? How many times has she? Will she?”

He remained still in the other room, his back to her. She could see him thinking, the way one hand rested against the back of the counter, supporting him, the other in his hair. She had caught him in a way he hadn’t expected. Padmé only felt a little guilty for stealing their night away, a night that was supposed to be spent in between the sheets.

“How is a thirteen year old girl supposed to deal with that? How is she supposed to learn how to be a Jedi, a peacekeeper, in the middle of a galactic war?”

Padmé could feel the senator inside of her beginning to take over. Her voice was loud, too loud, possibly loud enough to wake a handmaid or two. She took another long sip of wine and watched him.

Eventually, after many seconds that felt too long, his hand left his hair and he turned around to join her, empty wine glass in hand. She watched carefully as he stopped just short of her and poured his own glass. In any other situation, it would’ve been an amusing sight-- her husband, who hated anything that didn’t taste like sugar, pouring himself a glass of the driest wine in the galaxy.

He took a sip of it before sitting down beside her, leaving space for her legs in between them. Anakin kept the glass in his hand, holding it carefully, but well practiced. “I don’t have any way of answering those questions, Padmé.”

She frowned, turning away. Anakin’s absences made sense now, thinking of young Ahsoka. Padmé imagined if Satine had the same problem with Obi-Wan when Anakin had become his padawan. Obi-Wan had been just a few years older than Anakin was now, raising a nine year old, because Qui-Gon Jinn had told him to in his dying breath.

Padmé was quick to blink away the images of Naboo, the heartbreak that Obi-Wan had felt for so long, still buried deep underneath his shell. She tried not to think of her husband and his padawan, Anakin giving Ahsoka to Obi-Wan with his last breath. To think of such things, to consider it, she swallowed down another few sips of wine.

“So, where were your missions?”

Anakin exhaled, “Christophsis.” He looked out into the empty space of the apartment, taking a sip of the wine and instantly recoiling at the taste. “ Teth, Tatooine.”

“Wasn’t Christophsis a war zone?” Padmé asked, taking the wine from him and placing it down on the small table in front of them.

“Yes, but it was nearly over by the time Ahsoka got there.”

“So, why Christophsis? Why then?”

Anakin sunk back against the cushions of the couch, looking at the empty hand that had just had a glass of wine in it. Somehow, it had found its way into Padmé’s hand, she stood with it, taking another sip as she paced the floor. Her thoughts flowed better in motion, when the den became her own Senate floor.

It was better for her to do so with a glass of wine than Anakin. She was no stranger to his habits. Padmé thought of the last time she had seen him drink wine, how quickly he had become tipsy, bordering on drunk. It had been her job to escort her security detail from the Senate party, his clumsy steps and laughs echoing in the empty hall. It warmed her face to think of it, to think of such innocence in a time of war.

Her attention fell to him when he took a deep breath, steadying himself. His hand rests against the couch cushions, near the spot she had left beside him. “Well, we had to ask for reinforcements,” he recounted, “we were being overrun, every time we tried to contact the Resolute, it was static on the other end. When our ship came in we thought it would be fresh troops, maybe Master Windu, but instead it was just her, just Ahsoka.”

The breath was nearly knocked out of her by the sudden realization, “you were going to die, and the Council sent a thirteen year old girl to help you.” The realization of her husband’s near death, of the pressure put on this padawan, on the absurdity of such a statement. Padmé couldn’t help but laugh, her hand coming up to rest against her wine warmed face. “Of course they did.”

“Padmé,” Anakin sighed again, suddenly looking exhausted. “It wasn’t like that. They didn’t know--”

“Didn’t know what? That she’s thirteen?”

“She’s almost fourteen.” He said, reaching for her wine bottle, taking as much of a swig as he could stomach. “You think she’s defenseless, she’s smart, she’s capable.” He gritted his teeth at the taste of the alcohol, but took another swallow anyway. “Ahsoka is… she’s just like you.” He said, placing the bottle back down and daring to meet her eyes.

Padmé remained where she was, standing across from him with her feet firmly planted.

If not for the girl being thirteen, there were still several things wrong with the matter at hand. Being a Jedi padawan at thirteen was dangerous, and being thrown into an active war was even more dangerous, but for this girl to have to deal with so much responsibility… Padmé had to sit down.

Slowly, she returned to her husband’s arms and turned so she could rest her head on his chest. He relaxed instantly under her touch, the warmth of the wine already making him hazy. Padmé tried not to fixate on the imperfection of her attempted perfection. Her nightgown was ruined with splashes of wine, her feet sticky from standing in a puddle of it.

This night had been meant for them. She had waited to show him her nightgown, prepared a small meal for them to share, and instead they had spent it getting drunk and bickering about his padawan learner. Padmé snuggled her face into his robes, hoping to wish for the time she had wasted back. No matter what she said, no matter what she did, or how she acted, she couldn’t preserve Ahsoka’s childhood. She hadn’t been able to do that with her own.

“What can I do to stop you from worrying so much?” He asked, brushing her hair off of her neck and out of her face. The timbre of his voice, the way he sounded so close to her ear. Padmé melted against him as though he were the warmth of the sun.

“Tell me about her,” she prodded. “Tell me everything about her.”

Anakin smiled a little, his hands traced down her back, up, then down again as he thought about what to say. “Well, she’s annoying,” he said softly, “and she knows when she’s right.”

Padmé couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips. “I like her already.”

She hadn’t intended for any of this to happen.

Padmé sat in one of the chairs on the bridge of her husband’s flagship, watching as he spoke with the Admiral. The remains of the Separatist fleet were smoldering outside of the viewport. Her star skiff was among the flames, trapped in the hull of what had been Grievous’s ship.

The Chancellor himself had given her the coordinates, believing in their validity, she had left on a whim to discuss terms with the Banking Clan. Instead, she had quickly found herself and Threepio in the middle of a battle, blasts from each ship rocking her little star skiff as it attempted to cross into Republic lines from behind a dreadnought.

“Are you okay?” Anakin asked, startling her out of her thoughts.

Padmé looked up from the metal floor, taking his hand up. “I’m fine,” she said curtly, hoping to push her still lingering fear off for another time. Padmé looked at their hands, at how she had interlocked her fingers with his just by instinct.

“I’ll take you to my quarters, you can clean up and get some rest.” He said softly, walking her down the hall of the Resolute.

She had been in flagships before, but Anakin’s ship was different from the rest. Padmé had never seen so many clones, all of them stopping to acknowledge them on their walk. Anakin smiled at a few of them, all of them keeping their distance from them, as though they knew.

“We’re returning to Coruscant,” he said softly, leading her down another long, endless hallway. This one was far less populated, only the sounds of their footsteps and his voice so soft against her ear could calm the lingering adrenaline in her blood.

She nodded, unsure of what else she could do in such a situation. “You know, I appreciate the rescue mission, but I remember telling you not to stop attacking Grievous,” she said.

Anakin’s smile widened. He pulled her in closer to him, “I wasn’t about to let you have all the fun.”

Padmé could feel her own lips stretch into a smile. “Okay, I’ll admit, some of it was fun.” She released her grasp on his hand so she could link her arm with his, finding his fingers again. “It was… exhilarating to see you again.”

“Exhilarating?” He smirked, stopping in his tracks. “You didn’t do this just to see me again, right?”

“No, no, I--” she ran a hand through the stray hairs that kept falling in her face. “I followed some coordinates from the Chancellor, I suppose I must’ve transposed the numbers, or something like that.”

“And without security?”

“I had Threepio,” she said defensively.

He smiled a little, leading her down the hall to a door. Anakin input the security key as the doors slid open, revealing a humble little living room with two sofas and a meager kitchen-- a caf maker, conservator, and nanowave. Off of the living room were two doors.

“It’s through there, if you want to--”

Padmé was quick to silence her husband with a kiss, her hands quick to find the space where his robes overlapped. She started to pull at the fabric, hoping to free it from his belt. Anakin’s hands moved to her hips, holding her steady, but still kissing her deeply.

“Padmé,” he whispered, his blue eyes wide and bright.

“Master, I can’t find the Artooie’s spare treads,” a voice called out from one of the rooms. The door opened as the girl, Ahsoka, stepped out with a box in her hands. “Oh.”

Padmé quickly untangled herself from her husband. She hoped that her face wouldn’t betray her with a blush, but it was certain that Anakin’s would. Her husband had never been able to avoid it.

“Um, I'm sorry,” Ahsoka said quickly, taking a step back. “I--”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Padmé said just as fast. “I’m sorry, I, we, didn’t realize.”

Anakin had turned to ice behind her. Padmé had carefully moved to reach for his hand behind her, but he had moved just out of touch. She let her hands rest at her sides, feeling foolish for being caught by a thirteen year old girl.

They were both smarter than this, to allow themselves to be so exposed. Padmé had gone to such care to construct a narrative of them being good friends, not mates or partners. Although they had been caught, Padmé hoped that in some weird way, Anakin would hold it against her.

He had nearly gotten them caught once in her star skiff, accidentally knocking into the homing beacon. Now, that star skiff was a smoldering piece of metal on Grievous’s destroyed Malevolence. She hadn’t considered negotiations on the Resolute, at least, not until now. It wasn’t the most pressing issue, though, Padmé brushed aside her urge to drag Anakin out of the room, and thought of all of the questions she had prepared for his padawan.

Later, he could tease her about almost undressing him in front of his thirteen year old student.

Ahsoka’s eyes quickly moved up to Anakin, who couldn’t meet her eyes as he took a step back from both of them, he had turned as red as a Sith saber. Padmé would’ve laughed had her heart not been caught in her throat.

“Um.” Ahsoka said mindlessly, looking back to Padmé, the box of parts still in her hands. It was just as mortifying for her, Padmé realized, watching her lekku darken as well as the markings on her cheeks.

“I'm Padmé Amidala, senator from Naboo, and you must be Anakin’s padawan,” she took a small step forward, offering the young girl her hand. “I want to thank you for rescuing me today.”

Ahsoka clumsily moved the box to rest against her hip to free up a hand. She offered her left, so Padmé quickly changed hands to accommodate the girl’s panicked lack of coordination.

"Ahsoka Tano," she said, feigning confidence.

Her hands were warm, covered in grease from working with Artoo. As soon as the girl realized, she pulled away quickly.

“I am so sorry, I forgot, I’m so sorry,” she wiped her hand on her skirt, too skimpy and small for her.

Padmé felt guilty instantly, she hadn’t done anything to react to the feeling of droid grease on her hands. It wasn’t as though it would hurt her, she was no stranger to grime. She had been covered in worse things.

“It’s fine,” she didn’t wipe her hands on her outfit. The last thing she wanted was for Anakin’s padawan to feel worse.

The tension in the room was enough to bankrupt her mind of any of the questions she had prepared. Padmé hadn’t gone into this expecting to meet Ahsoka, in fact, she had completely forgotten about Anakin’s padawan until hearing her voice. She supposed that Anakin had forgotten as well, too caught up in the moment.

“Um, well, I have to go fix Artoo.” She said, placing the box down on one of the couches and digging through it. “And, if you can’t help me find the treds, then I’m just going to have to rip them off of that old service droid, and Artoo is never going to let me near him again.”

Anakin blinked, suddenly coming to life. “I’ll find them.” He said, brushing a hand through his own hair. “It’s fine, I’ll find them.” He slipped past her into the room that Ahsoka had come from. Padmé figured it was probably his room, the droid parts were enough of a giveaway.

Ahsoka straightened, dropping something that looked like an air filter for a small starship back into the box. “So, um, I’m sorry again, for getting you all dirty like that.”

Padmé smiled a little, “it’s fine.”

They waited in silence, looking one another over while Anakin searched for whatever part it was. Padmé knew the feeling of being dressed down with someone’s eyes. Anakin’s padawan was good at it, taking her apart piece by piece. It was a good skill to have, Padmé knew, and perfecting it would be an even more valuable asset.

Her husband returned a moment later with two metal treads in hand, they looked like thick belts, both of them painted white. Ahsoka quickly took them and inspected the way that the pieces moved, running her fingers over some of the grooves.

“Um, thanks,” she took a few steps back.

“Wait,” Padmé said, stopping the girl in her tracks. “I’ll come with you.” She turned to face her husband, Anakin was frozen staring at the two of them, unsure of what to do or say. “I’m sure the Chancellor would like to hear from you more than he would from me.” She watched as his eyes narrowed, not exactly happy with her, but too caught up in the circumstances to say anything.

“You don't have to,” Ahsoka started.

“No, I want to,” Padmé turned away from her husband to look at the girl.

Ahsoka looked worried, she brought her hands down in front of herself, trying to look as small as possible. Padmé felt guilty for putting pressure on her, for subjecting her to questions like an interrogation.

She turned to look back at him, she could see in his eyes that his thoughts were still far too many and too fleeting. He wanted her to stay, that much was clear in how his hand still longed to reach for her. Padmé turned her head just a little, telling him no before giving him a small bow. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, Master Jedi.” She couldn’t help the smile on her face, or how quickly she had to leave because Ahsoka had already left out the door of their shared quarters.

Ahsoka led her wordlessly through the Resolute to the hangar where she could already hear Threepio. Padmé sighed, resigning herself already to the droid’s bickering. It was sweet that Anakin had programmed him all those years ago just to help his mother, but there were times where she felt Threepio was trying to become her mother.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Ahsoka said, stopping just short of the fabric laid out on the floor. Artoo sat in the middle of it, unable to move. He rocked a little, chirping ecstatically that she hadn’t abandoned him. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Padmé froze, “that’s not why I want to talk to you.” She moved closer to Ahsoka’s workspace, which had Anakin’s supervision written all over it. His starfighter, yellow, just like his podracer all those years ago, sat beside her, tool resting against its landing gear, a dirtied rag resting on top of it.

She glanced up to her, resting the treads on the floor. “Why, then?”

“Well, I--” she stopped herself, unable to find the courage to say ‘I want to know more about you, I want to feel better about you being in the middle of a battlefield.’ “I’ve known Anakin for a very long time, and he always said he would never take a padawan learner, so when I saw you in that holo transmission, I knew I had to meet you.”

Ahsoka’s eye markings raised in interest and curiosity. “Oh,” she said, her hands buried in the tool bag. “I guess that makes sense.”

“He’s told me some about you, but I still have questions, if that’s… okay.” Padmé knelt down onto the dirtied fabric, careful of where she was putting her hands. She wiped the dried grease off on it, hoping not to catch the girl’s attention.

She took a wrench from the bag and started to work on Artoo’s bolts, tipping him over onto his side with great care before placing the bag against him, to keep him from rolling. The droid made a noise, one that Padmé recognized as annoyance.

Ahsoka murmured her apologies to him before looking back up to Padmé, “um, okay, I guess I have questions for you, too.”

The way she said it sent a small spark of panic into Padmé’s heart. It was only natural for her to have questions after catching them like that. She bit down on the inside of her lip before recovering her facade.

“Do you want to go first?” Padmé asked, lowering her eyes to Artoo.

The girl reached up and grabbed the rag from Anakin’s starfighter, folding it carefully and using it to clean the grease from Artoo’s servos. “Um, how long have you known Master Skywalker?”

Padmé relaxed almost instantly at such a question. “A very long time,” she answered. “When he lived on Tatooine with his mother.”

Ahsoka blinked, as though she had made some grander realization. “His mother?”

“She died not long ago,” Padmé answered, hoping to cut the topic short. She knew that Anakin would never say a word to the girl about his mother, that if she questioned him, it would break his trust.

“Your turn to ask a question,” Ahsoka said, rolling Artoo over to get at his other side. The droid chirped almost like a giggle as she did so. “Sorry, Artoo.”

Padmé didn’t even have to think before the words slipped out. “How old are you?”

Ahsoka’s body tensed as though Padmé had touched her. “Thirteen, almost fourteen.”

“Do you like being a padawan?”

She relaxed, Padmé knew that she had taken a right step in the direction. She had dealt with enough adults when she was Ahsoka’s age, all of them asking for her qualifications, credentials, asking to speak to her advisors instead of her. Ahsoka dropped the cloth onto the fabric they sat on.

“Yeah, I do.” She answered, glancing up from her work to meet Padmé’s eyes. “It’s hard sometimes, but I'm learning a lot.”

“I’m sure you’ve found yourself in a lot of dangerous situations already.”

Ahsoka shrugged, “not really.” She picked up one of the treads and started to work it onto Artoo’s bare wheels. “When you speak in the Senate, and your hair is done up, is it your real hair or just a wig?”

Padmé’s breath caught in her chest. She exhaled a small laugh, unable to hide her smile. “It depends, most of the time it’s just a hairpiece, like a wig, but heavier.”

The girl smiled, too. “Artoo, can you spin your treads?”

The droid did so, Padmé watched as the treads aligned themselves with Ahsoka’s guidance. She was certainly perfect for Anakin, the smile on her face, the joy in solving something so simple to make a droid more comfortable. She turned him again, fixing the other tread before moving Artoo upright.

He chirped a thank you to her, moving off of the fabric and onto the floor of the hangar in the direction of Threepio, who had found some clones to annoy in the meantime.

Ahsoka stood and wiped her hands off on her skirt again. Padmé prayed that Anakin had somehow learned how to do laundry and how to remove grease stains for once in his life.

“Can I ask something that might be intrusive?”

Ahsoka placed Anakin’s tools back underneath his starfighter, then the rag on top. “Um, sure.”

“Can you really fight in those clothes?”

Ahsoka blinked, “um, yes.”

“It doesn’t seem safe.” Padmé stood from the fabric on the floor, hoping that her question hadn’t offended Anakin’s padawan. That was the last thing she had wanted to do.

“How?” Ahsoka asked, taking a small step back to look over herself. “I mean, it’s not… jedi robes, but Togruta are allowed to wear non-traditional clothing.”

Padmé straightened a little, hoping to relax herself, so that maybe Ahsoka could relax as well. “It’s not that it doesn't suit you, or look nice, because it does. I just know how easy it is to get scraped and cut on missions, and I’m sure you would feel safer in something with more... coverage.”

Ahsoka’s defensive demeanor shifted. “Oh.”

“Especially because you’re growing. It’ll be much more comfortable to fight in something that supports you.” Padmé put her emphasis on support, hoping that the girl would understand what she meant.

Her blue eyes went wide, “oh!”

Padmé smiled, giving Anakin’s padawan a small nod. “I’d be more than happy to take you shopping in Coruscant. I’m sure my seamstress would love to create something other than gowns for once.”

The girl’s face turned dark with blush, a smile on her face. “I would really appreciate that, Senator.”

Padmé smiled, “you can call me Padmé, I mean, if I can call you Ahsoka, instead of Padawan Tano.”

“Yes! Please, I’d prefer that,” Ahsoka said, doing little to hide her joy. It was almost as though the dropping of formalities had changed her. “So, have you ever tried an awesome sour jawbreaker? Our rations were mixed up with a candy seller’s goods on Coruscant, and they’re so sour they make almost everyone cry.”

She laughed, “I don’t think that I have.” Padmé allowed the girl to take her by the hand, leading her back through the endless halls of the Resolute.

It was strange feeling better about things now that she had met Ahsoka. She trusted the girl entirely, though her feelings of concern for putting Ahsoka in a warzone hadn’t fully been squashed. Padmé embraced the strange feeling inside of her, a need to protect the girl from losing a childhood that she could never have. If Ahsoka couldn’t be a kid at Anakin’s side, she could be one at her side, finding peace in the quiet laughter and shared tears of sour candy.

#star wars #sw:tcw #ahsoka tano #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #anidala #star wars fanfic #sw fanfic #my writing #shoutout to me for doing something since this pandemic started #Anonymous

39 notes · View notes

haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Professor Kuroo Part Two

slides this across the table in a humble offering that it’s been 3 weeks since my poll pls forgive me

part one

Love y’all, J

You hate yourself for what you’ve done. But with the convention around the corner, your higher-ups are rightfully confused as to why you want out of Dr. Kuroo’s project so late in the game. You try to chalk it up to wanting to ‘broaden your horizons’, but even that doesn’t convince them fully. Instead, they tell you to continue working with Dr. Kuroo while also giving you some small task on Dr. Yu’s project that you’ll probably complete in two days.

So, Monday morning after that meeting crushing your hopes of just brushing what happened in the library Friday night under the rug, you trudge back to your desk trying your best to ignore the whispers following you as you go. Word spreads like wildfire around here. You’re not surprised, your request came out of the blue, particularly since up until now it seemed like you’ve been working fine with Dr. Kuroo.

Which…you have. Up until last week.

It isn’t that you don’t like him anymore, or that you don’t return his feelings—obviously not considering your reaction to his move on you. It’s more that you think it won’t be fair to either of you to go on pretending like nothing happened, because god knows you don’t even know if you can. Which is why it would be best if you stayed away from him, no reason to torture yourself like that. Or him.

Though, it looks like you’re just going to have to grin and bear it. No matter that you spent the entire weekend trying to stop thinking about what happened—and miserably failing. Any spare moment you had, without your permission, your brain would drift to the sensation of his hands clasped to your waist; his lips on yours, and from there you couldn’t stop imagining what would have happened had you let him continue.

That’s usually about the time you shoved your face into the nearest pillow to scream into or slapped your cheeks to bring you back to reality.

You think you can do it, act normal around him, give no inclination that anything is different. As much as you’re going to hate it, mainly because it’s going to hurt him, nobody—and you mean nobody can have any suspicions.

That is until he strides in the office door, looking more jaw-dropping than usual. You always had a hard time controlling yourself whenever he rolled up the sleeves of his button-up, but today he’s topping it off with the rare sight of his glasses and tousled hair looking notably unruly this morning. Judging from the glasses, hair, his bag practically bursting, and the numerous rolled up papers beneath his arm, it’s been a rough morning.

The dark circles under his eyes suggest it’s been a tough weekend as well.

You bite your lip, hoping it’s because of the conference and not you.

His eyes land on you almost immediately, expression giving away nothing. You are surprised that he makes his way over to you, drops his things on your desk in a huff, breathlessly explaining, “I have a meeting in like two minutes, I can’t make it back to my office in time, I’m sorry to ask you this but—,”

You go on autopilot mode, reassuring him, “I’ll handle it, just go!”

He gives you a grateful smile before jogging off to the conference room.

Truthfully, he’s glad he’s had a whirlwind of a morning, otherwise he doesn’t know how he would have approached you so normally. And he’s surprised at how receptive you were to him, he thought you’d be avoiding him, especially since you requested to switch off his project.

He frowns. He is not in the mood to think about that right now. It was bad enough being unable to focus this weekend, because if he lets himself, he’ll get consumed with thoughts of you. He’s thankfully able to think about something else during the meeting, distracted by data reports from other faculty and details about the conference. Upon the conclusion of the meeting, he’s surprised there’s no discussion about your request to transfer. As of now, all he knows is that the request has been made, there’s been no word on its verdict.

Before he can head out, he is by no means shocked when the head of the department asks him to follow him to his office. He does his best to remain as indifferent as possible as he follows him, making a point to ignore you as he passes your desk on the way to the back.

The door closes behind him, and Kuroo sets his expression straight, no need to give Dr. Takahashi any reason for suspicion.

“Are aware that your graduate student requested to be switched off your project, Dr. Kuroo?”

One of the reasons Kuroo respects his colleague so much is that he never dances around the subject, but right now he wishes he’d sound a little less accusatory with that statement.

No reason to lie here either, so Kuroo nods passively, replying with a noncommittal, “I did. Dr. Yu emailed me about it this weekend.”

He raises a brow. “Any idea why? There hasn’t seemed to be a problem all year, and with the conference coming up, it’s a bit unexpected.”

Kuroo takes a moment to consider what you might have said when probably asked a very similar question when you made the request. He’s certain you didn’t come clean about the situation, otherwise he’d be dealing with a much different person right now. “I’m sure they were looking for more to do,” Kuroo rolls his eyes good-naturedly, and judging by Takahashi’s expression he hit the nail on the head. “I can’t seem to give them enough, every time I turn around, they’re already finished and onto the task.”

Not entirely true, you do finish tasks quickly and diligently, but you’re pretty good about keeping yourself busy. He rarely has to explicitly tell you what to do next. He did when you first started, as expected, but by now you’ve gotten the flow of things and can work seamlessly with him like you’re reading his mind. Other professors are jealous and wish you were their graduate student, so he’s heard.

“Ah, well. Unfortunately, I denied the request. We’re winding down to the conference anyways, there’s not much to do anywhere. I’ll revisit it once things pick up again and see where they’re at.” He waves Kuroo out, and he almost sighs a breath of relief once the door closes until he realizes what comes next.

Facing you.

God, he’s gone over this situation over and over in his head all weekend, but now that it’s here his stomach is twisting into knots at the thought of confronting you. He wants to bring it up, thinking it would be best to talk it out, see where the other person is at, but not here. Not somewhere with the risk of someone overhearing.

He at least gives you the curtesy of approaching your desk from the front instead of behind like he usually does, as he found it amusing watching you jerk in surprise in your chair—no, even that’s too dangerous. You watch him carefully, wondering just what exactly he’s going to open with.

“Are you doing anything right now? Do you want to go over this week’s plan in my office?” He asks, unaware that the nerves coiling in your chest unravel slightly at his mundane request. It’s familiar, the two of you usually hash out the week on Monday to ensure an efficient plan, and you’re glad he started with that and not something ominous like, we need to talk.

Though there is an underlying suggestion in the seemingly simple question.

Go over the plan, in his office. A key detail that anyone else wouldn’t blink twice at.

You, on the other hand, fear an ambush. But part of you wouldn’t mind talking it out so there isn’t this air charged with anxiety that you can already feel simmering between the two of you.

“No, I was waiting for you to finish your meeting so we could go over the week.”

He smiles softly at you, and the expression that sends your heart thundering against your chest. The trek back to his office lets your nerves ramp up, making you paranoid about all of the possible things that aren’t the plan for the week he’s going to bring up once the door shuts. The closer you get, the more your mindset shifts from maybe being willing to discuss things to wanting to completely and utterly forget it, and go about your lives blissfully ignorant.

You’re glad he doesn’t take a seat behind his desk, which would have made you feel even more skittish that he’s planning on having a serious talk with you. Instead, he sinks into one of the two armchairs in the corner; a place the two of you have spent many hours in discussion over a cup of coffee in. You didn’t think it possible, but somehow that’s worse that him sitting behind his desk. This is far more…intimate.

He just looks at you, reading you so easily you hate it, saying, “I’m not going to bring it up. Not here.”

“Why not?” The words tumble from your mouth without much thought. You loathe how pathetic it makes you sound. His eyes softening only make it worse.

Choosing his next words carefully, he eyes the door behind you and lowers his voice, “Do you want to?”

He notices the flicker of your jaw. You’re contemplating something, so he just waits, despite his emotions rearing to bubble to the surface.

“I—uh…no. I’d rather not.”

You aren’t expecting the finality of those words to make your heart feel heavy in your chest. Like you’re closing a door that you’ve been wondering if it would ever open since meeting him and…it doesn’t sit right. None of this does. But you must continue on the way it is, there isn’t another choice, as much as you hate it.

You’re shocked to hear what he says next.

“Do you ever?”

Up until now, you were finding it difficult to look at him. But with those words, your attention snaps to his, getting pinned by his golden gaze. Without much thought you say softly, “I don’t know.” You wish he would wipe that stupid fucking expression off his face. It simultaneously makes you want to grab his head between your hands to kiss and slap him across the face. You have to resist the urge to do either, unfortunately.

“That’s fine,” he says, so nonchalantly you grit your teeth. He was the one to confess his feelings to you. It’s making you feel so childish how much you’re struggling with your emotions when he seems perfectly fine. Little do you know; he’s hiding his channeling his true feelings into gripping the armrests as hard as he can. At least you didn’t shut him out completely. “So,” he scratches his chin. “Your request to switch projects was declined.”

You visibly straighten. “Now that’s something I don’t want to discuss.”

He smirks, unable to resist his prevocational tendencies. “What are you afraid of?”

He watches as your fists ball, unsure if his tactic is going to work out in his favor or not. “You said we wouldn’t talk about it here!” You hiss, lowering your voice to barely a whisper.

Leaning forward in his seat and resting his elbows on his knees he proposes, “You’re right. How about tonight, The Brew at eight?”

“I am not going on a date with you! That’s the complete opposite of what we should do!” You whisper as angrily as you can muster.

“Just a humble meeting between colleagues,” he says simply. “Nothing else.”

Your eyes narrow, and he hopes with all his might you’ll agree to his request.

His heart soars as you say, “Fine. Just talking.”

“Just talking,” he nods, sincerely meaning it. You’re both adults here, and he’d like to settle this before it blows up in your faces.

He’s glad that you relax and slump into the chair beside him. “Can we talk about the week now please?” You hate how much you love the grin that lights up his face.

And as nervous as you are for tonight, you also feel a strange sense of calm about it. Relieved to get some things straight after a rather tumultuous weekend.

and now forgive me that there’s going to be a part 3 😈

part three part four

#haikyuu x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #Kuroo Tetsurou #Kuroo Tetsurō #kuroo scenario #kuroo x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #kuroo tetsurou imagine #kuroo tetsurou scenario #professor kuroo #kuroo tetsurou reader insert

163 notes · View notes

jaehyunspeachparty · 4 years

Text

daddy jaehyun

iii.xxxiv.

"Where are we going?" Miga put on her jacket while you put on Sunohs shoes. "We're going for a little walk and Daddy is going to vote." You smile and sit up again. Sunoh took your hand and leaned against your body. "Why does Daddy vote?" Miga grins and takes her little pink backpack in which she previously put an apple in it. "I think I have everything." Jaehyun came into the room and put his ID in his jacket pocket. "It feels weird. There's a big election and I can't vote. I've always been voting." You sigh and walk out of the house with the kids. Jaehyun followed you and locked the door. "You could get Korean citizenship." He shrugged and took Miga's hand. The polling station was not far away and so you could use it to go a little round. "Hm? What do you mean?" You were relatively surprised at what he said. "Well, I just mean. You have been living here for a long time, say you only feel at home here. Your children and I, we all have Korean citizenship and you shouldn't have to worry about your visa all the time. But that's only one suggestion." It didn't matter what Jaehyun said. After all, you had never felt like at home before like here and in the house now. But somehow you had never thought of it. "Hmm, I'll think about it."

When Jaehyun finished voting, you slowly went back. You were slowed down, because now it was only a few more weeks until the birth. From now on, your doctor had said that you could always count on the twins to come. Twins are more likely to be born prematurely. But your doctor was still happy because they were quite peaceful in your stomach. The best case would be anyway that they stay inside for 40 weeks. "Slowly the babies could really come. Being pregnant is harder and harder for me." You take a deep breath as you walk up the street that had a little climb. "Hopefully in 4 weeks." Jaehyun grinned and turned to face you. "I always loved being pregnant. But the twins rob me my energy." In the moment you can already feel how they started to move wildly and kick your ribs. "I think they'll rob us of more energy when they're born." Jaehyun laughed and waited until you were with him. "Mummy, you're so slow", sighed Miga and waited for you with her father. Sunoh stayed with you all the time. His fears of loss grew worse. Especially since he started kindergarten. When you finally came to your house, you see that someone was parking in front of your house. A female figure leaned against the car and you couldn't believe who was standing there. Jaehyun looked at you in surprise. He took the children and went into the house with them, Sunoh starts to cry because he would have preferred to stay with you. You can still hear your son's screaming, but it slowly ceased as you walked up to her. "Johanna." You take a deep breath, because you hadn't counted on her. "Can we talk?" She looked at you carefully, she was nervous and her leg was bobbing all the time. "Sure, do you like a coffee? There's a bakery around the corner?" You try to smile, but couldn't imagine what she wanted from you. "Yes, that sounds good." She smiled in relief and the two of you walk slowly. "You look like you're going to pop soon." She smiled and you were relieved that you were already joking. You haven't been in contact for a long time. You didn't even know her son. "I know, and I have a month to go. But it could also start at any moment." You put your hands on your stomach and hope that at least they can hold out now. When you were in the cafe, you sat in the garden on a small table. You order an iced tea and she orders a cappucino. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment, but then Johanna began to speak. "I know I was wrong. And I'm so sorry for being so mean to you. That was wrong and hurtful and I hope you can forgive me one day." She sighed and begins to play with her hands uncertainly. "I was just like someone else. I was at the doctor and he found that I had severe form of puerperal depression. The hormones should have made me go crazy and I've been taking antidepressants for a two weeks now." You could see that she was fighting with tears. It hurt you to see her like this. If she knew what Johnny had done? "Hey, don't worry about me, I know this is stupid. I forgive you, okay? I just hope we can be friends again." You smile and put your hand on hers. You were so relieved to have Johanna with you again. You had missed her so much because she has always been there for the past few years. "Thanks, that really means a lot to me." And now the first tear flowed down her cheek. "Can I ask you what about you and Johnny now?" You knew the question was risky, but you had to know how much you could tell. After all, you knew too much and you weren't sure if you wanted to destroy a family. "I know it..." She sighed and took a deep breath. It totally surprised you because you didn't expect that. "Johnny came to me, cried, was on his knees and kept saying how sorry he was. Well ... somehow it was my fault." She took a sip of her coffee and shrugged. "But he still shouldn't have slept with her right away. It's not your fault." "Yes I know, but I forgive him, I try at least. It brought me to reality and I suddenly realized that I need help. I want my children to have their father and I miss him. We'll do a therapy together and hope that we can make it together again." She looked deep into your eyes and you were as surprised as rational Johanna was again. Of course you are worried about her, but you were glad that she was as before. "If you need anything ... I'm always there for you." You are smiling and just were happy to have each other back again.

The whole afternoon was still beautiful. You catch up on all the news. Johanna showed the photos of her son and it was like before. Just before you wanted to go home, Jaehyun asked you to quickly buy diapers. He would then pick you up by car because he still didn't want to let you go home alone after all the incidents with Matthew. You go through the shelves and look for the diapers. When you find them, you suddenly see Soobin racing through the shelves. You got curious and watched her go. She didn't see you, but quickly took something off the shelf and didn't even notice that other packs were falling too. As quickly as possible she ran to the cash register and paid. You didn't want to spy, but her behavior was so strange that you go to the packaging. And right now it hit you like a blow, you couldn't believe what she bought. It was a pregnancy test.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

#jaehyun #daddy jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun jung #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios

128 notes · View notes

blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

Text

29. The Altar of Grace

Previous Word Count: 4535

“Worship me,” Grace whispered, smiling. Hazel walked back into the room and she hung up the phone and set it aside. Simon didn’t call back. The commandment sounded final for the conversation. The challenge, hardly one at all. He did that every single day. With the exception of when he was at his sickest, backsliding, they would call it in the church - a problem that his mother often saw herself as having when she was younger, because she refused to ever acknowledge that maybe her problem wasn’t spiritual. She gave up even trying after they lost Hope.

The Laurent family lost Hope, and Faith followed shortly after. But Simon? He found Grace. He was more used to the concept of grace than she was. The only time her family ever stepped foot in a church was for political reasons or at the very least public opinion. The little that Grace knew about any of that was stuff that she’d seen in media, and stuff that Simon had programmed inside of him. She’d once joked that he was going to start an Apex megachurch (there were megachurches all over California, and he had grown up in a church house), but the way that his mind went from outlining a few ground rules for the Apex to taking his knowledge of church legislature and formatting a very religious like experience in both praxis and adherence made her let the joke die off fast.

The Apex had been no joke to Simon. It had been, for lack of better comparison, his megachurch. At the center was Grace, and he worshiped at her altar, spreading the gospel of the Apex, the gospel of Grace. He wasn’t just making things up, in his mind. He was just telling others of his vision, of the world at her feet, of himself at her feet. The Bible often spoke of grace, but Simon was never sure of it before her, and once he was sure, his mind easily melded together the concept of grace with the incarnation that was Grace. She hadn’t asked for it. She was born into what she was. She had never really seemed to care one way or another about all of her faithful followers, the mass he organized at school, the branches of his discipleship that spread far and wide online. She had only ever cared about her chosen one. He was that. The one at the right hand of the throne of God, herself.

Grace’s commandment wasn’t unclear, nor was it new to him. It was simply her paraphrasing the Word of God, that he had always been familiar with to some extent. He had memorized verses in his youth. He had heard prayers throughout his life. He knew what she meant. He told her that he would do anything. Threw himself at her mercy to beg forgiveness. He was ready for her to give him his punishment, to give him his instruction, and her response, whether she realized it or not, was one wrapped up in the grace the preachers always spoke of. Because she gave him no punishment, just something that came as naturally to him as breathing - worship me… and she would give him what he was requesting… herself, which was everything he needed.

Sure, one could argue that this was the temptation of Satan. “All this I will give you, if you bow down and worship me.” Simon never believed in Satan. He didn’t really believe in God, either. But, the programming, the ritual, the practices… those were ingrained in him. He simply needed something to sit in the throne of his heart. He could see her there, as clearly as if she were in an actual throne… The was going to MAKE her an actual throne!

Simon sat his phone down and went back to his workspace.

The weekend with Hazel was exactly what Grace needed to rediscover her equilibrium as single mother, independent woman, career lady, etc. Hazel was exhausted, but Grace was revived. Did she wish that she could still go for spontaneous jogs and not have to worry about leaving Hazel for a little bit? Sure, but she had an in home dance studio that she could work off just as much… toxicity. Simon hadn’t contacted her again. But, he was posting every day.

She wasn’t checking, but someone still to this day insisted on tagging her to things or sending her things. Some of these people HAD to make backup accounts, because no matter how many people her social media reps blocked for that, they continued coming. It was actually a few weeks later that she got a call from her contact assistant. She was in the middle of rehearsals for her next music video, as she was planning to finally release an album during her 23rd year. “Yes, Ma’am?”

“Hey, Grace… I don’t know how else to word this but to say that I’ve gotten several calls to ask you about Simon Laurent’s current… situation and it seems like one of his worst meltdowns yet.”

“What? I JUST saw and talked to Simon a few weeks ago for my birthday and he was fine. Although… his mom is dying, so he may be taking that harder than he wants people to know. Just, send them the statement that Simon and I aren’t close enough that I know what is happening with him at all times, but hopefully he will receive the help that he needs in this instance, just as before.”

“Of course that’s my general answer, but there are some very specific concerns that I believe would matter a little more to you.”

“Like?” Grace asked, worried. If Simon had done something violent, or mean, or explosive, she was ready to cut the cord. She had an album, a child, and her 23rd year, and she was not going to waste as much time as she had in the past on overlooking things.

“Well… The first one is the hashtag The Apex Resurrected… it makes people think that you and Simon are mending things, which many people have thought for months, ever since his birthday in California and the family trip in Belize. Now, there are others coming out with accounts of having seen you two in the Bronx for your birthday - the elevator incident at the club, a few crude videos of you… um… dancing with him that night… and now this, weeks later.”

“The Apex Resurrected? I actually haven’t had anything to do with the Apex in a very long time. The Apex became Simon’s and as far as I knew, it was still a thing amongst the stans. You can release the statement that I don’t know anything about that, nor am I interested in learning.”

“Got it. Next cause for concern - He seems to be collecting various professionals in the Apex, or old Apex, or whatever it is for various tasks. Architecture, and other things. He has been making announcements about making a throne, about worshipping you, and about how he backslid…”

Grace bit her lip, “Okay… I may know something about that. Okay. Ummm… I’ll talk to him about it. What else should I be on the alert about?”

“He’s buying a place in Riverdale.”

“Did he get the job?”

“Nothing that I’ve found mentions his job, but that he is buying a house. Grace… That’s not that far from East Village… Is it possible that he knows where you are?”

“No. I’ve been extremely careful and Hazel has too, to not mention things that may give way to our neighborhood. But, he was staying in Riverdale a few weeks ago whenever he was here around my birthday, so maybe he just liked it.”

“Well, he’s been speaking about researching if he can grow hazel trees in New York, because he apparently wants those trees on the property, specifically.”

“Okay, that’s a little concerning, maybe.”

“Moreso whenever he begins to poll followers to ask what type of accommodations they would suggest for child quarters for a female presenting child between the ages of 10 and 13.”

“Okay, no. That’s very concerning.”

“People are speculating that the two of you are moving in with him, or at the very least will frequent his home.”

“Shut it down with a simple ‘I didn’t even know that he had found a place in New York.’ We don’t need to tell anyone about Hazel and I being secretive about our neighborhood, as that will probably make people more curious and for all I know, there are Apex people sprinkled around here. Give me a moment to call him, then I’ll call you back for further updates.”

Grace took a deep breath and called Simon. “Grace! I’m so happy to hear from you! I was afraid that I wasn’t doing enough.”

“Simon… from what I’ve heard, you’re doing way too much, Dude. What’s uh… what’s going on, on your end?” He held the phone for a while, confused. “Simon?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Grace. I don’t understand the question.”

“Okay. Well, my rep called me to say that she’s being contacted by outlets that are concerned about some of your behavior lately. Are you… okay?”

“I’m better than I’ve been in years! Everything is returning to normal, going back to the way things are meant to be.”

“Well… Now, I’M the one who doesn’t understand. What do you mean by returning to normal?”

He laughed. “Grace. I asked you what I needed to do, and I heard you. You’ve missed it. Your power, your following, your praise… and I am going to give it all back to you. I’m going to elevate you again, the way that I used to, the way I never should have stopped… I worship you. That’s what you told me to do to fix this.” He sounded very desperate, but hopeful. He also sounded like he knew that saying this out loud to her… they had a miscommunication. “Grace.” She was silent, but he knew that she was still there, doubting him, doubting herself. “What’s wrong with it? What’s wrong with worshiping you? In my own way? It never caused us any pain before. That pain didn’t begin until my love was stifled, and twisted in ways that didn’t feel natural. Are you going to tell me that you don’t think about where we might have been if I had just been allowed to love you like I knew how?”

“What you called love became unbearable for me,” she said.

“It won’t this time! You control whether or not I even get to see or talk to you. I just have to be patient. I have to remember that it isn’t about me. I have to thirst for what you’re willing to give me.”

“Simon, that’s extremely unhealthy.”

“I’m never going to have a healthy relationship! My background, my childhood, my conditions… I’m always going to struggle with normalcy and reason. Relationships will always be difficult and strange… But, does that mean that I can never be happy? That you can’t? The things that have made us happy in the past were things that were so extra to everybody else. You’re just as unhealthy as I am, you were just forced to face that sooner than me. That’s why even though you could have any man in the world, probably any woman, if we’re honest, you haven’t let go of me. I’m always with you. Even when we were broken, beyond reasonable repair, both of us kept holding on to all those fragments. We… belong, Grace. We’re family.”

“Simon… Hazel is my family…”

“Too.” he said. “Hazel is your family, too.”

“We can never be what we were, Simon. Worship me… I didn’t mean it like it sounded. I was being playful. Treat me super nice and buy me things. Fool around a little when we both have time… not… rebuilding the poison that we were together.”

“That poison is who we are. Even with help. We're never going to fully get it out of our systems. We just are learning to live with it there. You rush to save me any time you think I need it. I defend you before I even know a full story. That worked for us, for you and I, until I got greedy. I wanted more, when everything was in perfect harmony. I know that now. I won’t do it again.”

“Simon…”

“I’m making room for Hazel, as well. I’m not trying to take you back or move her aside. I want all of us…”

“In this poison???”

“Unfortunately, Grace… just like us, that kid was born into poison. But, look at how good for her you are, and how good for you she is… And yet… you still hold on to me. Why can’t it be all of us? Working together and healing together? Why can’t I worship you and love Hazel, too?”

“Because I already made the mistake of trusting you and it went miserably! It’s still affecting me, to this day!”

“I know. It maybe always will, just like your parents always will, just like things that will happen between you and Hazel eventually will. Everything in our lives affects us in different ways and I affected you in a really bad way when I knocked you off of your pedestal..”

“It was YOUR pedestal! I never ASKED you to be that person! Then, I had to try to fill shoes that I didn’t even want!”

“But you want them now. Tell me that you don’t want me to faithfully follow you, to do whatever you ask, to atone through my acts for you. Tell me in honesty that you didn’t mean anything by telling me what you told me, and I’ll leave you alone.” They were both silent for a while, then she heard him exhale, relieved. He knew he was right. “Grace… I won’t hurt you again. I swear on everything that we could be together.”

“I’ll… see where you’re trying to go with… whatever you’re doing right now. But, we can’t just go back to normal, Si. Sometimes, just the thought of your face enrages me. Sometimes, I want to visit you JUST to punch you in the gut. We’re not gonna be just okay, even if we work at it.”

“Okay. That’s better than nothing. I had a mom who attacked me every time she saw me. You have no idea what I’m willing to go through to be close to you.”

“Therapy. We should… engage in at least combined therapy, and that’s before jumping to any conclusions that we’re going to be friends again or whatever. Also, I need to talk to Hazel, to see how she feels about you and even the idea of us reconciling to restore friendship for real.”

“She approves,” he said. “She thinks her mom OUGHT to be worshipped.”

“I know you didn’t talk to my baby about this.”

“I asked her for your hand in worship.”

“Ugh. STOP TALKING. I’m gonna… give you a little bit of space while I speak to Hazel and my team.”

“I’m going to continue what I was doing.”

“Are you… sure you’re okay?”

“I feel like you’re trying to ask me about my mental health. I’m fine. I’ve started even seeing a grief counselor that my therapist suggested, for the situation with my mom. I’m going to ask him about a couple’s therapy plan, since that’s important to you. My most recent meds are agreeing with me. I promise… I’m not having an episode, just further epiphany. I want you to have what you were content to have before… do you remember?"

"No. I barely remember my order at my favorite Ethiopian food place."

"You had a wonderful person that you loved and wanted to spend all of your time with.” She vaguely remembered that conversation now. It had been so many years… She didn’t know if she remembered the feeling. She remembered that she had been honest that day, but she honestly couldn't even place herself in the headspace of her 15 year old self. Of… 10-20, even. She had a rebirth at some point. That Grace was dead, as far as she knew and realized… but… she dared to presume, and hoped to guess… maybe that Simon was dead too. The things that they went through still happened, but only in an anecdotal retelling. The man on the phone… she HAD shared a portion of life with him, as well. A sit down, a death scare, recalling their past, birthdays, a sexually gratifying (less traumatizing) entanglement… He was correct. She hadn’t been able to let him go. There was no way to explain it, but if she was going to latch on anyway, they might as well make the most of it.

“Are you in New York?”

“Yeah.”

“Same place as before?”

“No, that was a rental, but same neighborhood.” She could tell he was smiling.

“IF my talk with Hazel when she comes home from school goes in your favor, we’ll stop by with a housewarming present.”

“I would like that.”

“IF Hazel feels safe with it.”

“You’re a lot more afraid of me than Hazel is,” Simon said.

“I’m older and wiser than her.”

“Ehhh… Definitely older.”

“WOW! What part of worship is you roasting me?”

“You told me that your definition is be super nice, get you stuff and go down on you whenever you want… so… I feel like I can make fun of you whenever appropriate.” She blushed. “But, you’re wise. Just… maybe not as wise as Hazel.”

“Speaking of… the trees and trying to set up quarters or whatever… that’s a bit much.”

“I don’t think it is. If we’re going to be establishing a new normal, she’ll have to have as much space in my home as she does in her own. When have you ever known me to half ass something important? You and Hazel are important.”

Grace held the phone tightly. It… mattered that he said that. Regardless of her reservations, of his probable episode, and the sheer amount of nonsense that her rep told her was happening. It mattered that he told her that she was important. That they were.

Hazel and Simon seemed to have been plotting on her. Hazel was a little too comfortable with the thought of them “being friends” with Simon, with the thought of group therapy, home visits and the like, and her saying, “I’ve lived life as a turtle. I don’t think Simon’s episodes are any more peculiar than that,” only made Grace feel guilty about her immediate thoughts - that Simon was having some type of meltdown.

Now that she thought about it, those usually began with him feeling very bad, but that 16th birthday party… that particular whatever it was began with a similar mood - Simon hearing what he wanted to hear, doing too much for her, being very excited about things that had NOT been promised to him. “This is the 16th Birthday Party level meltdown!” Grace said, when it occurred to her. “Abort!” She said.

Hazel looked around the shop and then at her, “Abort buying Simon a housewarming gift?”

“Yes! We… are gonna ghost him!”

“No… We’re not gonna ghost him, because that will take a 16th Birthday Party level Simon and send him into a Pre Hospital level Simon.”

“I just…”

“Grace, do you think that I’m ever going to stop turning into a turtle?”

“Yes. You do it less and less as time goes on.”

“But, what if I don’t? Will you stress out and worry and treat me like there’s no hope?”

“Hazel, that isn’t the same thing.”

“Simon had some type of psychosis going on whenever you two were going through that. He’s spoken about visions of the Void, and you know for a fact that some of the delusions that he projected had no prompting from you. But, he’s been in therapy for a few years and on meds, and doing everything that he can to make amends and clear your name. I know that he’s the one who messed it up in the first place, but look…” She took Grace’s hand and traced a scar on it. “I look at this a lot.”

“My old scar?” Grace asked, chuckling.

“My old bite mark,” Hazel corrected her. “You never seem to think that I’ll bite you again. Simon was doing bad and you don’t have to forgive him or trust him, but if you never will, you should tell him that, not ghost him. And if you won’t forgive him or trust him, it would be better to return to the format of a clean, easy break. What do you think of this hedgehog planter?”

Grace smiled, “I don’t think that fits Simon.”

“I meant for me. He’s really cute. I can put some herbs or a little succulent in there…”

Eventually, Hazel decided on a mini lamp shaped like a white cat. It didn't look like Samantha, but she liked it for her anyway. Grace bought an attachable bidet. Simon was at home, shirtless, in some pajama bottoms and slippers that looked like wolf feet whenever he heard the door. He threw on a tanktop and opened up. “Happy Housewarming!” Hazel cheered. She was holding a gift bag with tissue paper stuffed in it and she pushed it forward.

“Thank you, Hazel!” Simon said. He accepted it and Hazel walked in, immediately going to Samantha so that she could come see the gift too. Simon and Grace were staring at each other. He turned towards Hazel, “Wow… this is a really cool lamp. It’s gonna go well with things too, because everything in here will be white or earth tones. Like the rental, but like… MY style stuff. I’ll give you a tour.” There were boxes still unpacked in each room, all labeled as the room that they were. The only thing set up so far was his workspace, bed, and master bathroom. But, he told them some of his plans for other space and rooms… and he really HAD thought of everything that Grace would have tried to think of if making space for herself or Hazel… even if she WASN’T planning on them ever living here. Hazel was excited about the prospect of a “second home.” ‘WE should help you throw a proper housewarming!” Hazel cheered.

“Who would I invite to that?” Simon wondered.

“Grace’s friends!”

“No!” Grace and Simon both said, then laughed.

“My friends, then… and their parents,” Hazel said. Simon looked to Grace for confirmation. She shrugged her shoulders. “In the event that Grace does not have an opinion on the matter, the natural response should be to seek out my opinion.”

“Okay. Then, you do that, then.” He smiled and leaned against the counter as Hazel started speaking of her decorating plans and other party details.

“You are going to unleash a monster,” Grace said.

“You’re one to talk. She was spoiled whenever I met her. I’m just matching the kid’s energy. What’s that?” He nudged his head.

“Oh! It’s a bidet. Didn’t know if you had one or not…”

“I do not and I do need one, so thank you!” He accepted it and set it aside.

“So… Can… we maybe move her tea set here? You’ve got A LOT more space than my place and it isn’t so far away that it’d be a huge jump to host her tea parties here, if that’s okay?” Grace looked at Simon and saw him processing this question. He looked like he didn’t want to get his hopes up, but also couldn’t shield his excitement.

“Hazel is perfectly welcome to move her tea party set here and her friends are welcome to throw them here, as well.”

“I’ll be here. It won’t be like… me leaving her with you.”

“That’s even more fun,” He said. “Do you need me to rent a moving truck to get it here?”

“No… I’ll handle that part.” So… there was still a level of distrust. But, this was still very big for him and he was going to count his blessings. “Come on, Hazel! We’ll be back around.”

“Bye, Simon! Thank you for the amazing quarters!” He walked them outside and to the car. Grace was reluctant to hug him or anything like that, but she smiled and wished him good night. Simon watched her drive away and looked up at the stars. It didn’t matter if anybody was there or nobody was. Hazel and Grace had made a decision to give him a chance. He didn’t know yet what, but he wasn’t going to let either of them down.

Whenever Grace and I were younger I used to give her tribute. That was what it was called. It started really simple. She defended me against some bullies and after we took care of them, I snatched a couple of things, as souvenirs for her. Then I just continued to do that all the time. I began to do it on a daily basis. I convinced others to do it too. It was never an obligation. She didn't ask me to give her something. She didn't demand that others paid her tribute. I made a conscious decision that she was worth that offering. I spread word to others about it. It was an act of worship. I built her altar with my own hands. I molded her believers with my words. If you asked me back then she owed me everything.

Fortunately now I know better. I'm older, I like to think I'm wiser. It was always I who owed her. I owed her for defending me. I owed her for befriending me. I owed her for lowering herself to my level, even if she just did it so she wouldn't be alone. I thought too much of myself. Convince myself that I deserved everything that she had been gracious enough to give me. I didn't appreciate the value of my riches in Grace.

Life has a way of working things out that aren't meant to be. I was never meant to be the king. Always the servant… Trusted, certainly. But there for the sake of the one who mattered the most. I did everything in my power to be on top. When something isn't meant for you, you can't take it away from someone else. In the process of flying too high, I made myself have to fly solo. Grace had been the wind beneath my wings that made me fly as high as I was flying. Without her there I fell. I crashed.

She was too busy trying to keep herself elevated. She didn't even really witness it - the way that life gave her back what she deserved while I plummeted. She moved on to things on her level. She had chosen me to come with her. I tried to replace her. Now she's soaring, and all I can do is watch from the ground. Proudly, certainly. But forever with the knowledge that I was once next to her, that I could have stayed there had I not tried to snip her wings…

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

9 notes · View notes

tanjhero-a · 5 years

Text

Life’s Trials to Meeting You

Pairing: Tanjirou x You (Gender Neutral Reader)

Prompt: Soulmates - Shared Scars

Word Count: 4,502 (wow!! thats 11 fucking pages on docs yall. my god)

A/N: This is my fic based off the results of the poll! This fic was originally made as a celebration for 60 followers, and since then, this blog now has 130! I’m very thankful and flattered so many of you are here. I hope you all enjoy this rather lengthy fic- I had a lot of fun writing it!

You’ve lived your whole life in moderate peace. You lived in a modest household with several siblings and your father. Life was dull, but it was safe. Your house was in the middle of a small town and you visited the same shops every day and talked to the same people.

You yearned for more. To travel out of town and meet someone new, do something new, something… exciting. You voiced this want to your sisters, but never your father. He loved you dearly, you knew, which is why he wanted you to live your modest and easy life. There was no danger in that.

But your father was a fool. Danger lurked everywhere, especially where you don’t expect it. It stays there, hiding in the shadows and waiting to strike. And finally, danger did come- in the form of a fierce demon that ate its way through the village in a single night. Your father had you take your sisters and run into the forest for help, making you leave him behind ultimately for his own death.

Most of your sisters didn’t make it. One of them refused to leave father behind, and another one didn’t stick close to you and got lost in the ruins of your town before she was gobbled up. Your last sister, Tamako, was only three, and she was only safe because you held her so, so tightly in your arms as you kept running far from what used to be your home.

Eventually, the adrenaline to stay alive wore out and you stumbled your way to a beautiful tree. Your vision was fuzzy as you forced your tired limbs to climb it, your sister holding you close on your back. The purple, beautiful flowers bloomed everywhere around the tree and hid both of you somewhat effectively. “We’ll be safe here,” you assured Tamako and situated her in your lap. “The flowers will keep us safe.”

You really didn’t know that you were actually incredibly lucky and that the Wisteria tree you hid in warded off demons- you just prayed that the demon was full and wouldn’t kill any more of your family. You held Tamako all night as she cried, and though you felt like crying yourself, you kept the tears at bay.

You had to be strong now. There was no other way.

---

When you awoke the next morning, it was because of Tamako’s cries. You immediately jolted to see what was wrong, only to wince and cry out in pain. She was crying because of the blood staining your shirt, which happened to be the problem.

Did you get hurt last night and not even notice?

“It’s okay, Tamako, it’s okay!” It wasn’t, but what else could you say? Your body felt woozy still, probably from blood loss, but you still collected her in your arms. “We’ll be okay. We’ll find the next town and get help and food. Aren’t you hungry?”

The change in subject seemed to calm her down. She sniffles, snot smeared across her face which you wipe off with your sleeve gently. “..yeah.”

“Me too,” you smile. “Get on my back, Tamako, then I’ll climb down.”

She clings to you tightly as you do so, and your feet slip a few times as you work your way down the trunk. Now that you’re aware of the gash in your side, it burns and screams with each move you make. Your just glad your sister can’t see the pain on your face as you finally make it to the ground with a loud groan.

“Okay, what would you like to eat?” You keep her on your back with your arms wrapped around her tiny legs, walking in a random direction. The first thing you needed to do was find a road, and then you could find a town.

“Buns!” Tamako yells. “...Fish. Rice.”

“That sounds yummy,” you nod your head. “Maybe we can get something sweet, too.”

“Yeah!” Her legs kick excitedly and you sigh. She’s buzzing with energy so you let her down.

“Don’t leave my side, Tamako,” you tell her gently and continue to walk forward.

Both of you walk for what seems like hours before you reach a road, and then hours after that before you reach a town. You carry Tamako at various times despite your wound, because she gets tired and you can’t afford to stop moving. You’re lucky you finally saw buildings in the distance when you did because you’re not sure how much longer you can stay conscious.

You stop in your tracks and slowly sit on the ground. Tamako stands beside you, holding your hand. “Listen to me,” you hold her small fingers tightly as you look into her dark eyes. “I know it’s scary, but I can’t walk any further. I need… I need you to walk the rest of the way by yourself and get help.”

“What?” Tamako’s lips wobble into a frown. “I can’t!”

“No, I know you can, Tamako!” You pull her into a tight hug. “It will be okay. You are so strong, I know you can do it. Follow the road, and get help when you see a person. Lead them back to me.”

Your sister holds you back as tight as she can, her body shaking with small sobs. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I just… need rest.” You kiss her forehead and let Tamako go. “I love you. I know you can do it.”

You squeeze her hand one more time before the little girl scampers off, running with all her might. You sigh once she escapes your view before you lay down. The best thing you can do is try to focus on your breathing, keeping yourself alert and calm as you wait. Everything in your body hurts- your legs, your side, your hands, and arms… You don’t know if you’ll make it, to be honest.

Your eyes flutter shut as your breathing comes to a slow. It’s too hard to stay awake any longer- could you sleep as you wait for Tamako?

Something, some far off thing deep inside your head says that’s a bad idea, but you’re too far gone to listen to the warning.

---

When you awake, you’re somewhere completely different. Inside a house, it looks like… Did Tamako get you help?

“You’re awake,” A voice comes from another part of the room, and when you look to your left you see a beautiful woman with a butterfly inspired haori wrapped around her. “Your sister was rather worried, and so was I. Your injury was dire.”

“Tamako…” You try to speak but your throat is hoarse and dry. The woman notices and takes a cup next to your bed. She gently lifts you up enough so you can drink it. It’s tea, you realize, and even though it tastes vile you down it all in one go. You grimace once you’re done and the woman laughs.

“It’s medicine. It will help you heal, but it doesn’t taste very good.” She lays you back down and places the cup on the stand. “Now, my dear, what happened?”

You sink into the pillows with a frown. “My town… it was attacked by a man-eating monster. I… I was supposed to protect my sisters, but only Tamako and I made it. I must have… gotten hurt, but I can’t remember how.” You don’t want to remember. You don’t want to think back to that night in any capacity. “My sister and I hid in a tree for the night, and then we walked for a really long time before I couldn’t anymore. I had her find help for me…” You look around the room, noticing there are several other beds but none of them have your sister tucked in. “Where is she?”

“This is where we keep our sick and hurt. Tamako only had a few scrapes, so she’s not here. I think she’s playing with the other children.” The woman sits down on the bed next to you, looking sorrowful as she holds her hands. “I’m sorry about your town. We actually have people there now, burying the bodies… I can have someone take you there so you can mourn when you are healed.”

Something about what she said makes you wonder. “Who are you?” You ask. “Who is ‘we’?”

“I forgot I didn’t introduce myself, I’m sorry,” the woman smiles. “I’m Shinobu. I’m a part of a group called Demon Slayers… we do just that. Protect who we can and kill demons.”

Where were you, then? You can’t help but think. Where were you when my family was murdered?

Shinobu seems to sense your thoughts. She frowns and you think it’s unfair that even when she’s upset, she still looks so beautiful. “I am sorry we couldn’t be there for you when your town was attacked.”

You don’t want to forgive her, her or her group, but you already have. You don’t have it in you to hold a grudge against these people who you don’t even know. “It’s impossible to save everyone,” you whisper. “I know that. At least you are trying to do what you can.”

Shinobu seems grateful for your comment. But then, out of nowhere, she asks you something rather bizarre. “Have you always had that scar on your head?”

“Oh, that?” You subconsciously reach up and touch it. “Well, it’s kind of a funny story. Originally, it looked a bit different… it just appeared on me one day. And then years later, I get this headache and the scar changed shape.” Your father never liked to talk about your mysterious scar, and no one brought it up in the village. You had almost forgotten about it, honestly.

Shinobu looks at you a bit strangely. You wonder what the problem is before she sighs. “Were you never taught about soulmates?” She asks.

“Soulmates?” The word feels funny on your tongue. What on earth was that? “No… what is it?”

“Oh dear,” Shinobu says under her breath, frowning a bit. “I’m not the best at explaining it, but everyone has a supposed ‘soulmate’. You know this because of your scars.” She stares at your forehead. “Soulmates are people destined for each other. So, technically saying, that scar isn’t your own. It’s the scar of your soulmate.” Then she looks down at your stomach. “They will probably have quite a scare next time they take off their clothes.”

You realize she’s talking about your scar, now. Quite frankly, your mind is blown. Someone meant for you? Sharing wounds? That seems so… otherworldly. Did your father know about this? Why didn’t he tell you?

You raise your hand to your head again, tenderly touching the red mark there. “Oh…” You look over to the butterfly dressed woman. “Does everyone know about soulmates?”

“It’s fairly common to know about it, I don’t know why you didn’t.” Shinobu nods. “Anyways, I should leave now. You need to rest.”

She leaves quite quickly, leaving you alone in the large room. You’re stunned still but can’t resist the alluring call of rest. Soulmates… It could wait another time.

---

The next two weeks are spent at what you learned is the Butterfly Estate. Shinobu and her team of little doctors help you heal, and they give you goals for each day. Today, you had to walk around the garden, making three laps. It drained you to your core, but Tamako ran circles around you to keep you motivated.

It was hard not to give up, especially when you thought about what would happen once you were better. You’d have to visit your family’s graves, and then what? You and Tamako no longer had a home. What were you going to do…?

“Come on! Come on! You can do it!” Tamako cheers, shaking you out of your reverie. Well, you were far from being completely better, so those thoughts aren’t important now.

You can worry about it later. For now, you want to enjoy your time at the estate and have Tamako as happy as she can be.

---

The day to leave has finally come, filling you with dread.

The people at the butterfly estate were so kind and helpful, so loving, that they began to feel like a second family to you and Tamako. You didn’t want to leave them at all, but it had to be done. A new, messy and worrisome chapter has opened in your life and it was time to start it.

Tamako’s friends, the little nurses, helped pack your bags with anything you would need since you had basically nothing. They gave you food for your journey as well, rice balls and dumplings, making Tamako cheer happily. She played with everyone for one last time as you stood by the gate, watching them run around with sad eyes.

“You’re welcome to come back,” a voice comes from behind you, and you realize it’s Shinobu.

“I didn’t think you would be here! Weren’t you on a mission?” You embrace her tightly, glad that you were able to see her before you left. She hugs you back with gentle hands.

“I finished up quickly. I know you don’t have a place to stay after you visit your family’s graves…” She lets you go with a sigh, looking at your scar again and touching it gently. You noticed that Shinobu lingered on your soulmate mark quite frequently, but you never knew why. “What if you stayed here? I could teach you and Tamako how to use medicine and heal.”

“But- you work with demons. Isn’t it dangerous?” You shake your head. “Tamako and I wouldn’t survive this life. We weren’t made for it.”

“But maybe you are,” Shinobu smiles. “This mark…” She taps the scar with her thumb. “It is a warrior’s mark.”

You have a feeling she knows more than she’s telling you. Shinobu’s always been that way, and it’s frustrating, but you know she’s looking out for you. “I can’t fight,” you tell her. “But… If you help me, I will try. But I won’t put Tamako through it, not for many years.”

Shinobu looks delighted by your answer as she hugs you again. “Wonderful. Then come back home safe.”

...Home. You hold her back, tears in your eyes. “I will.”

---

Once you made it back to the butterfly estate with Tamako, things got better. You trained so you could at least swing a katana and do some damage, though it felt silly since you were ultimately doing all this just to become a nurse. Shinobu pushed you though, telling you that it was better to be prepared and know how to fight than be helpless. You agreed with her, but it didn’t make the training any easier, along with studying medicine and healing techniques.

There was one night where you had trained alone, out in the forest focusing on the breathing techniques that Shinobu taught you and slashing at the trees. It was a quiet, uneventful night before you heard rustling in the distance. You were all alone, but at least you had your katana. You face the noise with a fierce grip on your weapon, practically shaking in your boots before- wham- you’re shoved to the ground.

Someone had run right into you, apparently, sending you both flying and rolling in the dirt. When you looked up to see who it was, you were quite surprised to see… a demon.

Your hairs stand on edge as you stare at the female demon and she stares back. Her eyes are a bright pink, her long hair colored red at the ends. And, most surprisingly, a stick of bamboo is tied around her head to cover her mouth. “Are…” Your throat is dry all of a sudden. “Are you okay..?”

You really didn’t know what to do. Your only experience with a demon was the one that killed your family, but you’re getting a whole different vibe from this one. Is that possible?

The demon’s pink eyes look up at the mark on your forehead, her eyebrows drifting up in surprise. But whatever moment the two of you had ended when another demon comes bustling through, headed straight for you.

Without thinking, you take your sword and slice at the other demon, its arm coming right off. You take a defensive stance in front of the girl, and you don’t really know why. The demon looks outright repulsed that you stopped it, but you can tell it’s inexperienced and dumb by how quickly you managed to cut off its head.

Suddenly you became hyper aware of your surroundings, and you knew you weren’t alone. There were more of them. Looking back to the girl demon, your eyes soften as you reach out a hand. “You were running away, right?” You ask her. “Come on, let’s go.”

Surprisingly, she takes your hand, and for some reason, she knows exactly where to go. The two of you run together, but she leads, taking you somewhere but you don’t know where. You would ask, but considering how her mouth is busy with bamboo, you decide to trust her.

Why? You really, really don’t know. Maybe you’re stupid.

More demons come, and even though you were told they don’t work together, it seems an awful lot like what they’re doing since they all seem desperate to kill you both. You fight until you’re drained, and then you keep fighting after that because it’s the only thing you can do to stay alive. You’re still inexperienced, though, and you can tell you aren’t breathing right anymore. The battle has overwhelmed and frightened you to your core, and you keep thinking, Why am I here? Why am I doing this? Who is this for?

Another figure, alone this time, jumps from out of nowhere and goes right for your demonic ally. Your body almost naturally intervenes, holding your katana up to the stranger’s neck with a fierce look on your face. You’ve already realized that he’s not a demon, but the girl is, and you can’t have him killing her. “Back off,” you snarl at him.

“Wh- oh-” the boy’s eyes go wide, looking at you in disbelief. “It’s okay. That- that’s my sister,” he stutters, and his eyes never leave you. He’s not even meeting your eyes, he keeps looking at… your forehead.

How did you not notice his own scar before? “Oh,” you mimic, the grip on your katana loosening as you point it to the ground. You look back at the demon behind you, your mind overwhelmed and dizzy. “Your sister…?”

“Nezuko,” the boy- your soulmate, apparently- calls to her and the girl demon happily returns to his side. “I… Who are you?” He asks.

“I’m…” You blink rapidly, looking at the ground. God, why was everything so fuzzy? “I’m…” Did you already say that? You look to the boy, concern in his gaze.

Before you can say or do anything else, the exhaustion from running and fighting your first battle catches up with your body, and you’re falling to the ground as your brain decides to shut off.

---

Voices are what wake you up. Angry, concerned tones that make you think that maybe people were fighting nearby. Fighting..?

“-can’t believe you got them mixed up in your mess, they aren’t ready-“

Was that Shinobu?

“-you knew and you never told me?”

You didn’t know that voice, that’s for sure, but for some reason, it sent a warm feeling down your spine.

“-not ready-“

“-not your decision to make-“

When you sit up, you’re hit with a wild headache that pounds your skull. “Gods,” you hiss in pain, and suddenly the fighting that you heard before stops. You blindly reach next to you, knowing there’s a cup of water, medicine, something, waiting for you. Someone hands you what you’re looking for and you murmur thanks as you down what was thankfully just water.

When you finally blink your eyes open, you see Shinobu first, and a nervous boy lingering behind her. You recognize him but you can’t quite remember… then you look at his familiar mark and remember quite vividly who he is and you stop looking at him.

Soulmate.

It’s dead quiet before you muster up the courage to speak. “I’m fine, Shinobu,” you try to reassure her. “I know I’m inexperienced and I shouldn’t be dealing with demons… I know I’m only learning these skills for self defense, but… she needed help.” That’s all you could say.

“For all you knew, she was another demon. She could have torn you apart.” Shinobu says, anger still in her tone but you look up to her in defiance.

“But she didn’t! She… I know it’s weird, but I knew she wouldn’t hurt me.” You touch your chest, over your heart. “I could feel it.”

Shinobu sighs, turning away from you. You can tell she’s conflicted. “You are still so ignorant.” That’s all she has to say before she leaves the room, leaving only you and your mysterious soulmate inside.

“I suppose I was ignorant. She’s not wrong. There’s still so much I haven’t seen or done…” you speak aloud, slowly working up the courage to look at him. “But I was right, wasn't I?”

The boy smiles at you so softly, making him look so trusting and handsome that your heart feels like it’s going to burst. He sits on the edge of your bed, next to your feet. You notice that his checkered haori is gone and instead he just wears his Slayer Uniform.

“You were,” he nods. “It makes sense why you would feel that way, considering…”

The both of you blush at the acknowledgment. He clears his throat with a laugh before he presents his hand to you. “I’m Tanjirou Kamado.”

It’s rather silly, but you indulge him and shake his hand. It’s firm and calloused, clearly he’s more experienced with a katana than you are. You give him your own name. “Your sister… Nezuko?” Tanjirou nods, slowly letting go of your hand. “How did that happen?” You ask, before quickly skidding to a stop nervously, “only if you want to tell me, of course.”

Tanjirou laughs, and even though you’re embarrassed, you think his laughter is beautiful. “Of course, I’ll tell you anything, ___,” he looks at you so adoringly that you’re sure that your heart really did burst by now.

The two of you spent what felt like minutes but was truly hours together, talking about your lives and tragedies, everything that led up to this. You found that you felt wonderful around Tanjirou, and talking to him was easy and comfortable. Somewhere between the stories, your hands found each other again, and they stayed linked and warm together as you talked. When you explained the demon attack on your village and how you got your scar, his eyes burned with empathy.

If anyone knew what losing your family to demons was like, it was him. Tanjirou was just sorry that you had to witness it with your own eyes- he was lucky enough to only see the aftermath.

“I always wondered what had happened to you when I saw it on my side. It made me wonder what kind of person you were.” His thumb rubs the top of your hand gently. You can tell by his hesitation that he has something on his mind, but won’t say it. You smile and squeeze his hand.

“I’ve lived with siblings too, you know. I can tell when someone is thinking too much about something.” You try to help him relax with your comparison. Tanjirou chuckles, shoulders relaxing as he looks at you in a shy manner.

“I was just wondering if I could see it. Your scar.”

You understand why he was embarrassed and why he wanted to ask. It’s evidence of your connection. Tanjirou’s scar is so easy to see, but yours is hidden beneath clothes. “It’s okay,” you tell him, sitting up a little straighter against your pillows and finally let go of his hand. You lift up your medical garb just enough that he can see it, the smooth and light skin that covered the side of your stomach and waist. It’s big and ugly, in your opinion.

“It’s really there,” Tanjirou whispers, reaching out and touching the scar gently with his fingertips. “You really don’t remember how you got it?”

“I don’t remember a lot of that night. I think I blacked it out, erased it from my mind. To make things easier,” you whisper and Tanjirou nods in understanding, letting you put your shirt back down. “I wish I could have been like you, Tanjirou. Strong and willpowered, learning how to get revenge on demons and protect the ones I love,” you look down at your hands. They were so small and soft compared to his. “But I’m not a fighter, not really. All I can do is hope that tragedy won’t happen again.”

“You are a fighter,” Tanjirou tells you. And when you look up at him, you can tell he’s not lying. “You protected Nezuko for me… you protected Tamako. You’re learning medicine to help others, and learning basic techniques so you can defend yourself if you need it.” You hate when he looks you right in the eye. How can one man make you feel so important? “That sounds strong to me.”

“When you put it like that…” you grumble.

“Good,” Tanjirou smiles again. You don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of how pretty he looks when he smiles. “You should go back to bed. You need rest after your fight.”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” You’re slightly nervous that he’ll leave as you sleep because his life is probably busy.

“Yes,” he assures you. “We still have a lot to talk about.”

You agree. The fact that you and Tanjirou are soulmates- that’s a life changer, isn’t it? Things are bound to be affected and shift.

Tanjirou is kind and cheesy enough to tuck you in, giving you a shy kiss on your head, right next to the scar that brought you both together. “Tanjirou?” You whisper. “Is it okay that things turned out this way? That I’m your soulmate?”

“Absolutely,” he assures you. “Things will become different, but that isn’t bad. I’m glad I found you. Or, well, Nezuko is the one that found you,” the boy laughs softly and cups your cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” you say back, your cheeks positively warm under his touch. He kisses your forehead again before finally tearing away, exiting the room with a small ‘goodnight’ and leaving you with your thoughts.

Honestly, you feel good. Meeting Tanjirou seems like the start of something big, strange, and wonderful. For the first time in a long time, you feel like things are going to be alright. You can do this- you can fight and live.

And you look forward to doing it all with your soulmate.

200 notes · View notes

pandemicthestory · 4 years

Text

4: tethered

The game has a name.

The game is called Universe. And it matches the map.

Thanks Iz.

Emma sits at her desk, mainlining espresso to the bloodstream, and readying herself to do a deep dive on the internet. Since the beginning of high school, this is how she’s spent many nights--high on caffeine, slouched over her computer, and ravaging the internet for information. Except historically she hadn’t been looking for a faceless man, but researching for the essays of her classmates.

At up to $300 a paper, Emma had been cleaning up and saving up for two years. Saving for a new life with Julian, away from the family that seemed to have a problem with everything she did. Once she was gone, they could finally turn her bedroom into a gym, or an opium den, really the possibilities were endless.

Emma has nearly $20,000 in a bank account that no one knows about. No one except Julian. And this means she has almost reached her goal, and that they can finally leave. Get a car, drive somewhere south where it’s warm. Or maybe somewhere north where it’s Canada. They haven’t actually figured that part out yet, but once they get the car, the rest will fall into place. That’s what he’s assured her. And she has chosen to believe him.

Emma is the kind of best friend who lies. She’s not proud of it, but it’s true. And she feels like she has no other choice. Zoe, Olivia, Madison...they might as well be her sisters. They understand her more clearly than her own sister does. The four of them were connected by the holiest of ways: playing tetherball at recess in first grade.

In 2020, they had grown into a grungey aspiring comic book creator (Madison), soup-kitchen volunteering empath (Olivia), Harvard-bound jailbait (Zoe), and criminal internet troll (Emma)...but before this, they were four little girls who had one important thing in common: hitting a ball that was tied to a poll. Every day, they’d wait in line together. Madison would always get there first (back then she played soccer and no one could outrun her), and she would “save a spot” for Zoe, who was the most talented player at the time, and her key rival. Olivia, given her sense of morality, would often be called upon to referee any suspicious moves. Wasn’t it remarkable that a sport (that wasn’t even a real sport) could form a sisterhood?

Sisters. Sisters were supposed to know everything about you. But Emma had chosen not tell them about her illegal business. How could they ever understand? All of them with their aspirations and goals, wouldn’t they look at her differently if they knew hers was...money? And a future that in all likelihood would not involve them? That thought was something that caused her a lot of pain and guilt, and one that she made a mental note to talk to Julian about. They hadn’t settled on the terms of their new life together, but they knew that it would have to be a secret from anyone. Otherwise they would be caught and returned. Emma was hoping she could find a way to not cut off her sisters. That he would understand.

*crack*

Emma is startled by her bedroom window opening. Julian has this way of popping up whenever she’s thinking about him. Which happens to be often.

“Dude, can you please text me before you’re gonna come over? Aghh you’re all wet!”

Julian playfully shakes his hair like a dog.

“It’s raining,” he smiles.

“No it’s not. I can see out the window.”

“But wouldn’t that be so romantic if I climbed up the side of your house and snuck into your window through the rain?”

“You know, it would, but you didn’t.”

Julian sighs, giving Emma the look that means, “ok stop being an asshole and act like you love me.”

“Alright I just showered. Look, I brought you flowers.”

“You brought me one flower, and it’s a dandelion from my front yard.” Emma cracks a smile, despite herself.

Julian groans and throws himself down on her bed.

“Ok, so am I gonna just lay here by myself? You punishing me for something I don’t even know that I did?”

He smiles at her in that “you can’t say no to this smile” type of way. Emma concedes and flops down next to him. He wraps his body around hers, holding her tight. It makes her feel both safe and like she couldn’t get away if she wanted to. Julian is tall and lean, but strong. He has curly hair that always flops in front of his face, and his eyes are dark and wide. He smells like the shower, so that wasn’t a lie. He kisses her neck. She sighs.

“I missed you.” She says softly. Because she really, really did.

“I had to go away for a while, to make sure I had my half. And it...took longer than I thought it would.”

Emma sits up. “But you have it?”

He smiles and nods. “What about you, Em?”

Emma gazes off distantly. She’s basically there. If this virus bullshit hadn’t gotten in the way, she would have passed her goal in three weeks, tops. But now…

“I don’t have all of it. Since there’s no school, I’m not sure how I can...but I’m really close.” Emma braces herself for him to be mad, but he isn’t.

“That’s ok, babe.”

“It is...?”

“Yeah, we have more than we need. I said 40 because having some extra doesn’t hurt. But we’ll be ok. And we can leave tonight.”

Emma half chokes, half laughs. “Tonight? Are you insane? I already know the answer to that.”

“Well why not?”

“Um, I mean there’s things I have to do before we go, Julian...lots of stuff actually, I mean I need to pack, square away my accounts, and say goodbye to Isabel, and…”

“Then how bout tomorrow?”

Julian has a bit of a manic look in his eye, like he hasn’t slept in days, like he’s been doing something he shouldn’t. Emma takes a deep breath, she doesn’t want to know.

“Give me, um, one week. Ok?”

Was that a flash of anger that just crossed Julian’s face? It couldn’t be. Those days are past. Julian hides anything that might have been, then just pouts dramatically and nods.

“One week.”

Emma lays back down with him and they begin to make out. Is one week enough time to sort everything out? To figure out Universe? To find Mason?

“You haven’t even re-asked me to be your girlfriend yet…” she murmurs. He hushes her.

They continue to kiss, as Emma’s anxiety grows. Julian’s hand begins to slide under her shirt, but she stops him. Abruptly.

“Julian, I want to tell my friends that we’re leaving.”

He sits up next to her, immediately serious.

“You know we can’t, Emma.”

Emma slumps forward. “Am I really just going to disappear without telling them where I’m going?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Anyone who knows what we’re doing is a potential threat to us being discovered. Honestly, what is the point of running away if you’re pretty sure that you’re going to get caught?”

“But Julian, they’re like my sisters. It isn’t right. They’ll worry.”

But worse than worry about her, they could forget her. They could close their little circle and be ok with just three sisters. They could be just fine without her. And that is, strangely, the worst fate that Emma can imagine.

“Emma, no. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

He gets off the bed and straightens his clothing. He puts his shoes on.

“Where are you going?”

Julian flashes her a look. This time, the anger lingers.

“There is a fucking virus that’s going to kill half this country. Right now, people are quarantining because they agree to it. But what happens when there are cops in the streets, saying they’ll shoot us if we even leave our houses? What happens when there’s no food left? I’m getting out of here before it gets that bad, because I want to be in control of what happens to me. If you wanna come with, great. If not, don’t waste my time.”

And with that, he has disappeared back out the window from which he came.

Emma tries to catch her breath. She’s not going to cry over him tonight. No. Absolutely not. This is the right thing to do. He’s going to save her. They’re going to save each other. He loves her. He loves her.

*buzz*

Her phone lights up on her desk. The group chat.

Emma rubs her face and examines her phone.

OLIVIA: does anyone wanna watch a movie? Netflix does this party mode thing now where you can watch stuff with other people

ZOE: i was just thinking about how i’ve never seen gossip girl. Binge?

MADISON: if we watch something less cringey I’m in. back me up Em?

But Emma can’t respond. And now, is when she begins to cry.

Because they don’t know so many things. And they wouldn’t forgive her if they did.

The last time Julian was her boyfriend, he cheated on her with someone Isabel’s age. And when Emma found out (through an unforgettable fight with Isabel), she confronted Julian immediately. Surprisingly, he made himself the victim, claiming that Emma hadn’t been a loving enough girlfriend, and that he was desperate for attention. He made her feel like she wasn’t enough, something she already struggled with, and something that she has carried with ever since.

So after he started texting her again six months ago, she told the first lie to her friends. A lie of omission, really, as she just didn’t tell them about him at all. And then came the next lie, when Emma opened up her anonymous writing service to her schoolmates. Everyone knew about the sophomore ghostwriter, but no one knew it was Emma Bradford.

Except Julian. And this knowledge is something that he has over her, but that she is 100% sure he would never use against her. Because he isn’t like that anymore. He wouldn’t hurt her again.

Whether Emma is able to look herself in the mirror and make the judgment or not, she’s smart. Technically, brilliant. It’s always been easy for her to label Zoe as “the smart one,” unable to recognize her own intelligence. But Emma built her own PC when she was 12 years old. She learned Python when she was 13. She wrote her own research program that combs sources for students’ papers, allowing her to have an incredible turnaround rate. While Zoe might be the star of AP Biology, Emma’s intellectual strengths just haven’t been required of her yet. So she can’t see their worth.

Emma sits down at her laptop.

Universe.

After a quick Google search, she is able to find it rather easily. Although, the game is from 1983? This can’t be right...the graphics she saw over Isabel’s shoulder looked modern. But then again, she didn’t get a good look.

After Emma is unable to find any other Universe games, she decides to download this one. As she starts the download, she sees that the game takes up an absurd amount of memory--about 20x that of a normal game. Very weird. Luckily, Emma has a spare external hard drive that she can download the game onto. Huh. What the hell can possibly be taking up so much space?

The computer determines that the download will be completed in 24 hours.

What?! Truly unheard of. Ok then, well, seemingly she pounded all this coffee for nothing. Nothing to do but, wait.

*ping*

A new message to her ghostwriter account. Mason. Her heart skips a beat.

MASON: Don’t worry, the time will go quickly

And now her pulse begins to quicken. So this means that she’s right. The map is leading to Universe. Or rather, the map is Universe.

EMMA: are you watching me?? seriously wtf

MASON: No matter what I say, you won’t believe me.

EMMA: ok well… i just ingested enough caffeine to give myself a heart attack, and now i’m gonna be up all night. will you at least talk to me?

A long pause. Emma knows this is weirdly forward but hey, it’s been a crazy night. So why not.

But then, he’s typing?

MASON: what do you want to talk about?

Pause.

Randomly, shockingly, in this moment, Emma decides to be honest. Which is something she hasn’t done in a long time. To this person who can’t possibly judge her.

EMMA: I have three best friends, and I really miss them. I miss being close to them. Seeing their faces in person, and telling them the truth.

EMMA: Too much?

MASON: maybe you should tell them how much you miss them

EMMA: I’m scared to. I don’t know what will happen if...well there’s a lot they don’t know. And I’m scared if I tell them, they won’t look at me the same. And nothing will be the same. And then I’ll be gone, and no one will miss me

MASON: It sounds like in some ways you’re already gone, and i bet they miss you too

Emma sharply exhales. She sits back in her chair. She isn’t use to being read like that, especially by someone who’s never met her.

She doesn’t want to be gone.

She picks up her phone, and opens the group chat.

As she begins to craft the message that will open the door to an explanation, she stops herself. Deletes what’s been written.

EMMA: i’m down to watch gossip girl

ZOE: Yesssss queen

MADISON: traitor

She can’t tell them. Not tonight. But it’s possible that somehow she might. And she has one week to figure it out.

Back when recesses were spent playing tetherball, Madison would challenge, Zoe would defend, Olivia would judge.

And Emma, oddly enough, would watch. She would sit on the sidelines while most of the girls in her grade lined up to face the defending champion and she would admire it was so easy for all of these girls to play together, to be instant friends. She wondered if she would ever have that.

* * *

In a different room, far away:

A boy sits at his computer. He thinks that the neurotic compassion one girl has for her friends is shocking and intriguing.

He stares at the sky, wondering if she might be doing the same.

#writers on tumblr #writers #writer #write #writing #my writing #excerpt from a story i'll never write #pandemic

2 notes · View notes

theliberaltony · 4 years

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to Political Confessional, a column about the views that Americans are scared to share with their friends and neighbors. In an increasingly polarized political climate, adherence to party or ideological orthodoxy seems de rigueur. Social media serves only to amplify that perception at times.

But Americans’ political views are often idiosyncratic and sometimes offensive, and they rarely adhere neatly to any particular party line. In this column, we want to dig into Americans’ messy opinions on politics, morality and social mores. We hope that this exercise gives readers a glimpse into the minds of those with whom they might disagree — or agree! If you have a political belief that you’re willing to share with us, fill out this form — we might get in touch.

This week we talked with Jennifer, a 38 year old white woman from North Carolina who wrote in to say, “I am an evangelical Christian but I think Trumpism is actually, truly a religious cult.” She feels “horrified to watch most of my friends and family believe Trump is God’s chosen one … I feel like I’m living inside of the story “The Emperor Has No Clothes.” Am I the crazy one?! Why can no one in church see he’s naked!!!!!”

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Clare Malone: When did you come to this opinion and how?

Jennifer: It was leading up to the 2016 election. And it really was hearing the sound bites of the actual words coming out of Donald Trump. Now, it wasn’t certain talking heads or certain news programs. It was literally the quotes or the video clips of him speaking that were so offensive to me. I couldn’t imagine voting for him even though I’ve always been a Republican.

I would probably consider myself a little bit of a centrist at this point. I mean, I’m pro-life — like, babies being born but also refugee children being cared for. I think it’s hypocritical to be here for one and not the other. And I care about women in crisis too, I just don’t think that these issues need to be so dehumanizing for certain people to win power.

CM: Take me back to 2016. When did you start to hear people start to make justifications for Trump?

Jennifer: My friends were conflicted when he made the remark about grabbing a woman. But once he ended up winning, then I felt like people really started to justify voting for him.

It’s just weird in this polarized environment because I can’t call myself a member of the GOP anymore. I am not super liberal, but I definitely can’t go along with the leadership of the country right now.

CM: Why do you think they have started justifying his actions? Is it the news they watch? Is there biblical justification to say, “Sure, God has picked an imperfect vessel.”

Jennifer: I think part of it is people feel the need to be consistent. If you went ahead and voted for the person, you don’t want to feel bad about yourself, you want to come up with reasons to feel good about the fact that you voted for them. If you agree with the president, you’re going to say we should pray for him. The Bible tells us to pray for our leaders. But if there is a person in power who is not of your political party, do you show them the same grace? Do you pray for them as well? I feel like it’s this double standard which I don’t think is biblical. I think that’s just our human nature.

CM: How do you feel about that personally? How do you feel about Trump and forgiveness?

Jennifer: Well, if you want to talk about the Bible, I think the Bible requires repentance for God to grant forgiveness to people. And so I think I haven’t seen any true repentance in any of his actions. I would use scripture that talks more about how a wise man deals with a fool — there’s a verse that says if a wise man tries to reason with a fool the fool only rages and laughs.

CM: Would you say that the attitude of people in your community about Trump has changed the way that you feel about your church?

Jennifer: I’m confronted with this reality of like four out of five evangelicals voting for this man. And it’s like, are we seeing the same reality? It’s made me want to be careful what church I attend, and what programs I’m involved with, because I think this is going to have really long term, deeply negative effects on the American culture’s view of Christians. The challenge for me is to think about how this one person, Donald Trump, doesn’t dictate who Jesus Christ is. The challenge is to focus on Jesus himself.

CM: You said earlier that you’re pro-life in the sense of wanting babies to be born but you also care about refugee children. How have the kids-in-cages news stories been received in your community given that the Trump administration has been defending that policy?

Jennifer: I do have some friends who are troubled by that. But I also have friends popping up in my Facebook newsfeed defending those policies. I think that we have to almost dehumanize people in our view of them in order to justify. So, if you talk to someone who’s very liberal and talk about the issue of abortion, they’re going to say that’s not a baby. That’s not a person. And if you talk to conservatives about a child of an immigrant in a cage, they’re going to say, they’re not Americans. They don’t belong here. Their parents broke the law. They deserve this. They’re distancing themselves from that humanity, leading to them to look at those children differently than they would look at an American child.

CM: Are you thinking of yourself as a Democrat right now?

Jennifer: I’ve switched my registration to independent. I have been GOP my whole life. At this point, I really want to see how the polling is and throw my support to whoever seems most likely to beat Donald Trump.

CM: Have you brought up your controversial opinion to family members or people in the community who support Trump?

Jennifer: I find it really hard to break through. I have some friends that are more extreme than others, like a couple friends who are really talking almost like he’s almost a messiah of sorts.

CM: How have you dealt with it on an interpersonal level? Do you switch the conversation topic at a certain point?

Jennifer: My husband and I don’t agree about it. We’ve only been married a couple years. If things get too heated we table the discussion. I think sometimes it helps if I can share personal stories or ways that seem to affect me personally; like, if I can talk about how upsetting it is being a woman to hear the derogatory comments. It’s frustrating. You care about someone and you’re on different pages.

The funny thing is, I felt like I wasn’t that political of a person before 2016. But then I just felt so deeply offended by the attitudes towards women, towards minorities, the horrible things happening at the border. And I mean, to be honest, I just expect more of Christians. Because I am a Christian.

For me, the challenge is, how do I keep from villainizing or dehumanizing those that I disagree with? And I feel like that has to start with me.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Clare Malone

3 notes · View notes

ariagrans · 5 years

Photo

I’ve had nothing but pure love for this group for a bit over six months now, and it’d only be right for me to tell each and every one of you why you’re so wonderful to me. Muns are listed alphabetically!

Ally: Let’s kick this off with something I know I said before but I can’t help to say it again, you amaze with how dedicated you are! I freakin’ love that about you, and it’s an honor to get to be around that. As someone who fawns over all the ships, you know I’ve always loved yours and I love what you put into all of yours replies. They each so well written and I couldn’t feel more blessed to know you. I want the whole world to know what you all you put into your roleplaying so they really know what it’s like to put heart into something. @hqmaia

Becca(EST): Oh man, you really bring me back. When I think about what RP used to be like, I’m thinking of 2012/13 when everything was so with the flow and that’s what you are. I feel like I’m back to when things were easier in life, when it wasn’t so stressful, when RP was a proper escape to submit all of your creativity into. Every time I’m on here and I see you on my dash, I get taken back to that time, and I love every bit of it. You put so much into making this group feel like one and it wouldn’t be the same without! @liliisms

Becca(GMT): My precious Becca, where do I begin? I gotta keep these relatively simple or else this is turning into a novel, so let me focus on just how much you’ve made me fall for your muses! Truly Taylor and Niall couldn’t be more perfect, and I don’t know how you do it but you do. I am such a sucker for Taylor and Louis, and you do such a wonderful job at giving that ship what it needs to thrive, and I’ve never had so much with a Niall before! Even if it’s me seeing him on the dash most of the time or him being cute with Ari, he genuinely brings a smile to my face. Thank you for having them here and blessing my dash with every single post you make. You’re such a crucial part of this RP like everyone, and I couldn’t be happier that you are one. @teylcrswift

Beth: Talk about some who is so unapologetic with the MURDER you inflict on my with you and your muses both, Miss Beth. You know what you’re doing when you’re doing it and you don’t care how much it kills me as long as I find it perfect and you know I always do! If we had an awards for one who plays their character so well in regards of the real celebrity, it’s all yours hands down. I already loved Jack from what I had saw of him and I wasn’t prepared for what would happen when I came here, but you have completely caused me to nose dive into the pool of infatuation with your Jack. All of your muses for that fact, they bring a lot of emotions out of me, and that takes a lot of skill on your part that I honestly can’t go without. I don’t know what the polls are yet, but you’re definitely an All Star. @jocklowden

Charlie: Is it okay for me to start this by saying I love you? Because I do, I really do. You are a part of my every day life now and I honestly wouldn’t want it to be any different. Even if I’m too stressed to get on the dash or not feeling good, you’re still there to be an amazing person to me and somehow want to talk to me! I think Charles and Ariana is what really kick started the two of us talking to each other back in February and it’s seriously been a wonderful almost four month getting to know you. I’m constantly amazed by how fascinating you are and what you do with yourself, even if you don’t believe me when I say it, you are truly one of the coolest people I’ve ever met and I’ll gladly brag to anyone I know that I also get to know you. Thank you for everything you do, everything you contribute, and everything about you that’s made you a perfect human to me. You’re one hell of a friend and I couldn’t imagine it being any different. @madelame-x

Dee: I know you’ve been here before, but since you just got back, I thought I’d take the opportunity here to welcome you again! I’m excited to RP with your Brie and if you want to plot, Ariana/Fionn/Darren are all yours! Thank you for giving us your creativity and time, I know we’ll all appreciate it. @briannelarsonx

Emily: Girl, you know how to make someone feel loved and their muses feel loved so well, I can only hope that I make you feel the same way! I think everything started with Ari and Troian’s friendship and it’s snowballed in a big ole’ bundle of love for all of your muses since! It’s so easy to write with you and I can feel the chemistry for who we play flow right out when I’m doing my replies! Our friendship means to world to me and no matter what happens and wherever anything takes us, I know I want you to be there with me to write it all out. @hqsofia

Faith: This may be a weird way to start things out for your segment here, but I have to say it. I’ve never met another writer that is so damn good at dry humor the way you are. I mean, there are so many funny people here and I love every bit that they give, but Aaron is one of a kind and damn do I love seeing him on my dash! I haven’t had much experience with others who play him, so having him here really is like a rare gem for me! And you sure know how to make him shine. Him and Lizzie both, with the way they talk to each other, I’m entirely pulled in and each reply is perfect. And oh, don’t let me forget, you know what you’re doing with drama as well! I’m so blessed to get to partake in it with you, and I hope you can forgive me for my lack of activity for our bbies Aaron and Darren, the troubling two. It’s already one of my favorite friendships and that’s largely due to you being the far better half, so never change! You’re wonderful the way you are. @aarcntveit

Ina: My sweet, sweet Ina! If there’s one person that I just want to wrap my arms around and give the biggest hug to, it’s gotta be you! You’re always bringing a smile on my face even when you’re not doing anything but posting in the ooc blog or reblogging a photo of Gen and talking about how pretty she is. I do the same, I mean. I’m obsessed with Ariana so we’re in the same boat of those who totally adore their muses, and I adore yours! I need to get on it with more threads with you because I know I’m missing out on the perfection! You’re a wonderful roleplayer and an absolutely stellar admin that I feel lucky to be around in this group, and it’s been an hour to spend these past seven odd months here with you. @itsgenevievegnt

Jaq: I can’t even begin to properly put into words how wonderful you are, Jaq. A bit of time had passed of me admiring your characters from what felt like a far, but once we had something going for them, their chemistry practically wrote itself! Not to mention our own because my friendship with you blossomed quick and has been one of my favorite to ever experience through RP. I know we’re both busy and have a lot going on nowadays, but Ariana will never forget the threads she’s had with your muses, and I can’t wait for more to come with Cami and whoever else you may ever play. You’re so funny and you don’t mind when I say something utterly dumb on discord and that calls for one hell of a friend because I feel like I say a lot of dumb stuff. And before it slips my mind, I want to add that I hope you had one hell of a time in Maui! You deserved it. @hqcami

Katie: Strike me down right now for not having more going on with you! I adore Diana so much and love seeing her on my dash, I demand I get my ass in gear and get some stuff going. Especially now that I have Darren, even though she’s best friends with Lizzie which we shall access properly, I’d love to have more going with such a wonderful muse played by a fabulous person! And my god, you’re one hell of a cutie on the main. You’re so sweet and I love seeing your posts with Emilia even if you’re just promoting for more people to join. Feel free to message me whenever and about whatever you want, I’d love to get anything started on any of my bbies with you. @diannahq

Kay: Another case where I’m totally ashamed of myself for not having anything going on with such a perfect muse! One, I might add, that’s brought my precious Dove and her muse a lot of joy which makes me love you all the more, because Samantha deserves all the perfect ships and you do one hell of a job to give her one, and that’s makes a pretty great cookie in my book. Please come to me for whatever you want and I’ll have it on your way. I’ve been so tempted to make more promos on my own character just to get you the rest of the 5SOS boys cause I’d love for you to have them around and see the band thriving, and your Luke has been the best one to see around in my years of RPing, thank you so much for gracing us with him. @hwl-hemmo

KJ: I just want you to know that you have been a total staple to my experience here at Hollywoodland, KJ. From your muses to the way you personally are, I get so much enjoyment out of your presence here that I marvel at the way you are. From being a wonderful writer with your characters to being absolutely precious out of character, especially when you had met Eliza and gifted us with the cutest meet and greet photos I’ve ever seen, you’re exactly what this place will always need and I’m so happy that you’re not only a part of this family but one of who helps keep it rolling on the main. From a talented writer to a caring admin, you’ve got it all and my muses will forever love yours just like I love you. @kjapayo

Lara: How can I say that you make my stomach hurt without it sounding bad? I mean, I’m sure Jordan can say it and end up turning it into a flirt! But honestly, you’ve made me actually cry with how funny you are. I have to hide my laughs at work, but it’s all out when I’m home and I’ve had to take time to recuperate when I laugh so hard! Ariana just loves Jordan to bits and she’d do anything to have him around as much as possible. I can’t stress it enough but you really do have a talent with yourself and your muse for cracking me the hell up and I think we all need someone like that in our lives, so thank you for being in mine! @jordnconnor

Laura: I need to message you pronto because if I don’t have more with your perfect muses soon, I may very well go a bit mad! Just what bit I’ve had between Tom and Ariana has been so very dearly loved and I know I’ll enjoy everything that’s written with you, especially since I enjoy reading everything you post! Not to mention how much I love the spread of muses you have, it’d be a crime not to get some for myself so I can enjoy it that much more. I’d love to plot with you even if we all know from the dozens of times that I’ve said how I’m terrible at doing so! @tmhclland

Mal: I know you haven’t been here long, but I really do hope that you find this a place to stay! I see the dedication that you put in your replies and wow is Emilia such a cute little bean! Please feel free to message whenever you’d like if you want anything going with any of my muses, I know I’d love to have something going with your precious girl. @clarkesitos

Maree: Let me take a moment absolutely applaud you for having such a fascinating queen to enjoy on my dash and in this roleplay! I don’t think I’ve ever had the chance to RP with a Stefani this much in all of my years of being on Tumblr, and that’s such a shame because she truly is so beautiful and talented and definitely deserves more recognition in the community. Yours especially deserves all of the attention she can get for being so wonderful and bringing a smile on my face whenever you’re around. Not only are you blessing us with such an underused faceclaim to enjoy on the visual standpoint alone, but also with beautiful writing and skill that makes everyone want to fall in love with her. Bless this queen. @stefgaga

Minnie: The DIVERSITY with your muses, I swear! I’m still shocked by it that I had no idea you played them all, and that takes such a talent to differentiate muses when you have a good amount of them, a talent that you for sure have! I’m just in absolute awe with what you do with and for them, and you’ve given me beautiful ships to admire from a far. Beth definitely knows what Jaoirse means for me, and even though I’m not a part of it, I enjoy being in the front row with a box of popcorn ready for the show, no matter what it is that you’re writing for them! We can’t forget how much I love GMax as well, though! You and Ina write that ship out so beautifully and I’m so delighted that I get to see their relationship and marriage continue on, I can’t wait to see what else you have in store for me. @irishxseahorse

Nikki: Your name is right in the middle of this list with the way I organized it, but I might have had to save it for the last one that I’ve written out, and that’s solely because of the fact that I knew how emotional I’d get over writing this out, and I may need to take the rest of the day to regather my composure afterwards, Babe. Where do I even start though when every single thing about you bring my pure happiness and makes me love you more and more every day? How can I properly explain why Harry and Joe bring me so much joy enough to bring them justice? Because that’s what they do! They make me smile with everything they do, and that’s exactly what you do as well. You know how I feel about you and our ship with Fiorry and friendship with Jariana. It’s the world to me, and I’m tearing up right now just thinking about how you’ve changed my life for the better. You’ve gotten me through more rough times than I’ve even let you know about because all I had to do was talk to you for a few minutes and I immediately feel better. I can’t believe how lucky I really am to have you in my life and I hope you can get a sense of what you mean to me even if all I can do is pour my heart out through messages like this and through the writing of my characters to yours. Yep, I knew it, I’m incredibly emotional and I might have to splash my face with some water after this, but I just can’t get over how great my life is now that you’re in it, and I can’t wait for every day from now on because I now they’ll be spent with you in them. I love you to death, Nikki, and I want to go on about what Fiorry means to me as well, but then I know my tears really won’t let me see my computer screen enough to type it out.. Fuck it, they’re the world to me and Harry has done with you did for me but for Fionn. He’s changed his life entirely and I know Fionn couldn’t possibly be more happy about it. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for them and their future together, and even if I don’t know what it is yet, I know that it’ll be perfect. This is coming to be a ridiculous amount of me pouring my heart out to you, but I can’t help it. I love you, Harry, and Joe more than you’ll ever know and I owe all of my happiness and gratitude to you. @hcurly

Raven: Thank you so much for bringing us the beautiful Zendaya that I feel is rarely played nowadays! Even in the past, I don’t think I’ve had much experience with one, and I’m glad that you’re who brought her here. She’s so well played and such a beautiful soul, I can’t wait to see what all you do with her here and I hope to be a part of that! So whatever you want, if you want, I’d love to plot or get more threads going. @dayaxxcole

Rose(PST): Hello, 1/2 of one of my all time favorite ships here! God, you really know how to deliver such cute material between Brett and Haley, I can’t help but to enjoy every bit of it! Just in general as well, I enjoy everything that you bring to the table and this RP really wouldn’t be the same without you. There’s such a talent in your writing, and don’t think that I didn’t notice what you were able to do to me during AU week! Brett had my heart absolutely breaking with a lot of emotion that I adored so much, and it really takes a talented writer to bring that out of a person! Thank you for having your skill here for all of us to enjoy. @brettdicr

Rose(GMT): ROSE, ROSE, ROSE, what a lovely human being you are! I’m so happy that I get to be a part of a roleplay that has such a wonderful and dedicated player like yourself. I mean, just tear my heart out and use it as an offering to the gods above that granted us Sprousehart to enjoy in this world.. Was that dramatic? It might have been, but who cares, I absolutely adore Cole and I love how he is with Lili. They’re perfect, you’re perfect, please don’t ever go anywhere because I know I couldn’t take it. You inspire me with what you do for your ship and what you do for Becca, all ships should get the chance to experience what yours is like, it’s just so beautiful and you’re amazing at writing it out. I can’t wait to see what else SH has to bring us. @hqcolem

Sadie: You know what I just realized right now? That you’re only playing Lizzie! And what amazes me about that is that you’ve planted so much of yourself in my RPing experience and have become such a big deal to me that I would have sworn you had more characters, but no! You’re just spreading it all around with your perfect Lizzie that I adore so much and feel so honored to have a plot with. Granted, it’s very sad and dramatic and I just want to hug her so bad because of it, but that’s what makes things so exciting. You make things exciting! You’re so good at running this place as well, don’t even let me forget what a great admin you are to us. My god, I just feel so lucky to be here with you and to read what you put out on my dash, it’s such gold every time! Lizzie has such a humor that I’m addicted to and an attitude that knows how to break my heart when it comes out. Thank you for blessing me with your written talent. @ohlizzo

Sam: BBY, OH THE LOVE I HAVE FOR YOU! Let me get my heart shaped boxing gloves out because I’m ready for another battle to see who can say they love each other the most. You’ll see that I win because nothing can beat out the total adoration I have for you and Grant. How well did our bbies click right off the bat? Sure, it started out just with a common admiration for sushi, but it took off and Ariana is practically in love with Grant. In a friendship way of course! With their cute sushi dates and precious hugs, they’re one of my favorite friendships I’ve had for her, and she misses the hell out of him every day on tour! There’s so much more that I want to do with you, especially on my other muses, but for now just let me thank you for always bringing a smile to my face and gracing my dash with a perfect muse like Grant. I truly can’t get enough of you. @theflashgrant

Samantha: Oh my god, you’re just so amazing. I have to start with that because it’s the first thing that comes to mind! You’re seriously so wonderful, and I can’t believe how much I have in common with you. You love Starkid, you watch Dead Meat, we both have terrible sinuses with allergies. I mean, there’s just so much there. I’m not even afraid to share with you when I’m at my dumbest like chester drawers. I feel such strong chemistry for both our friendship and the ones that our muses have together! I knew in the beginning that I’d want something for Doviana but I had no idea that they’d click so well and I think it stems from the way we click! Thank you for being a friend to me and sharing everything you have so far. It’s an honor to call you my friend. @dcvescameron

Sarah(GMT): Bby! I know we don’t talk much and my characters haven’t had much time with Meryl, but I know I want to change that! It’s so lovely see a FC that’s so underused and I’ve always been a big admire of both the real actress and your muse, so I wanted to thank you for gracing my dash with her when I get to see it! Hit me up any time if you want, I’d love to give you all my muses so we can get some fun started. @xitsmerylstreepx

Sarah(EST): I find it quite fitting that you’re here since they do always say to save the best for last! I know I made this alphabetical, but shh, we can say it was planned. I truly am so happy that you’re here and you joined not too far off from when I did! Come to think of it, it might have been around the same time exactly with Vanessa even if you picked up Bella a bit later, so if you think about it, you could say that we really have taken this RP journey together and it’s been one hell of a time! I absolutely adore you and the chemistry that our muses have, and I’m lucky that I get to be one half of Beliana. I know we don’t often get that much time to write together, but when we do get to, I love every bit of it and Ari’s life wouldn’t be the same without your Bella! Thank you for being here with us and for having that feisty mama for us all to enjoy. @b-hxdid

#[ OOC ]#[ hwlappreciation2019 ]#( I really hope that I have everyone listed here!#you all deserve to know how much i love you <3 #and tumblr better have this tagged all correctly for you to see #i love you so much #please forgive that graphic #i hope my messages make up for it )

29 notes · View notes

canyouhearthelight · 5 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 20

Happy Tuesday, everyone! Here is the latest chapter. Although there is nothing graphic contained within, I want to be very clear about the following items it does contain. If I have forgotten something, please send me a message an let me know. All in all, I really like this chapter. We revisit a very early mention of gender affirmation surgery

Warnings for:

- discussion of a religious upbringing

- polyamory

- birth control

- nonbinary identity

- deadnaming (does not happen, but is discussed)

- transgender identity

- anti trans violence (only mention of the after-effects, nothing graphic)

The week after the swimming area opened in BioLab2, the Council meeting opened unexpectedly with comments from Councillor Huynh. Grey had apparently approached him in the meantime with insurmountable logic and exhaustive data to show that they had thrown their support behind the platforms that had been previously postponed. To be fair, Giang Huynh was very gracious in his complete surrender, admitting that building the platforms would be a valuable challenge for his team. Looking directly to me as the one overseeing Occupational allotment, he asked how many workers could be dedicated to the task.

“I have fifty-three engineers and twenty-three apprentices that are currently not assigned,” I advised. I had the data so that I could argue in the event that he pushed back; I never expected Grey to approach him in private. Though I was unfamiliar with their background, Councillor Hodenson had always seemed very by-the-book. I was impressed.

“I want priority given to the engineers with apprentices,” Huynh responded firmly, breaking me out of my musings. “The apprentices need their training hours. Estimates show that we would only need twenty-seven workers on the project, due to need for materials to cure.”

Xiomara scowled. “You want to fill the work allotment with mainly apprentices?”

“Negative. I want all twenty-three apprentices, plus their mentors, and ten more engineers just in case to help out. Apprentices are not cleared to work without direct supervision from an approved mentor. If any of the apprentices’ mentors are not certified in underwater welding or fabrication, I’ll find them temporary mentors who are. In fact, Councillor Reid? If I can find enough engineers to mentor any of the rest who do not have underwater experience, do we have the resources to at least rotate them out in the remaining slots?”

I was speechless for a moment. Huynh was notorious for being thrifty with labor, begrudging every head assigned to any given project. But here he was, asking for more personnel to be assigned to this than necessary? “Um, I mean…” I cleared my throat. “Yes. I believe we do, but you are talking about having nearly sixty people assigned to a project you just told me should only need twenty-seven.”

“Underwater welding and fabrication are valuable skills,” he announced. “And it is very unlikely we will have another opportunity on the ship for these people to learn it. Kepler 442b is a very wet planet, so I foresee it being a skill they need. If I can find the necessary skillsets to train them, I would be grateful if you can juggle the logistics of rotating the personnel out. It will cause the project to take longer overall, but I think it will maximize the benefit to those onboard.”

“I will do my best,” I promised, still slightly stunned.

“Does anyone have anything else to add before we move to the first topic on the agenda?” Grey asked lightly with a glance around the room. As everyone was silent, they took that as an indication to proceed. “The first official item on the agenda this week is an update on the gender affirmation surgeries.”

Murmurs broke out around the table. The genetic surgeries had started not long after I came on board, and had been deemed necessary procedures for anyone who chose to undergo the testing and surgery. However, they were not required, so overall it was a hot-button topic. Only three genetic surgeries could be done at a time, while over six hundred had qualified. The solution was argued over for nearly a month before we found a method everyone could agree on: names on slips of paper, drawn from a receptacle by one of Noah’s avatars. The oldest style of lottery in history, for the most advanced reason we had ever found. Only the Miys were allowed to handle the slips of paper, which had been printed in raised script to make it possible for them to read the names. Once a name was drawn, the recipient had the option to undergo the surgery or gift their slot to someone else.

In a turn of humanity that should not have surprised anyone on board, but nonetheless made the Miys utterly baffled, every single person who identified as transgender or nonbinary had signed up for the lottery, whether they wanted it or not. When a name was drawn of someone who qualified but did not want the genetic surgery, they immediately were gifting it to anyone they knew who had been tormented for their identity on Earth. Grey had even participated, gifting their slot to a man who had been mutilated with acid Before the End for the artificial atrocity of being born with a female body.

Clearing their throat to break up the low noise around the table, Grey continued their report. “As of this morning, one hundred and seventeen individuals have completed genetic surgery. All reports indicate they are thriving and happy, including the reversal of both new and old injuries sustained prior to the surgery. The largest complaint we have received is regarding the incidental removal of tattoos, but the overwhelming sentiment is that it is a small price to pay.” A watery grin crossed their face, remembering the man who they had given their slot to. While he was by no means handsome, Grey insisted his was the most beautiful face they had ever seen after surgery. “Of the six hundred and seventy-four who qualified for the surgery, four hundred and six have opted to undergo it. All completely androgen insensitive individuals preferred the bodies they already had, requesting only that internal testes be removed, while most incomplete AIS patients have decided to undergo the genetic surgery for whichever gender they are most comfortable with. The Miys have accommodated this fully. Several individuals who identify as non-binary but qualified for the procedure have declined entirely, while others, such as myself, requested only for cosmetic surgery to align with our identities of being neither male nor female.”

“If I may ask,” Xiomara interjected. “For those who do not want the surgeries, why are they enrolled in the lottery?”

Grey nodded firmly. “The lottery is, by all means, the agreed upon way to decide on the limited slots available, especially knowing that all will get their opportunity by the end. However, there is no truly fair way for any one person to evenly weigh the emotional strain on every person in the lottery. For myself, my logic was thus: if I can change, even in a small way, the very possible random chance that all those who were tortured, mutilated, or abused in the Before for something beyond their control, it is my responsibility to change it. By putting my name in and giving my slot to Hendrick, I changed the chance that he would be last. He now has his own face, both hands, all his hair, because I took that chance. His fully functional body drastically outweighed my need to be androgynous.” A thrust of their chin showed the defiance they threw in the face of anyone who would question.

Xiomara only smiled. “Thank you, Grey. I never doubted the concept, I just want it on the record in the event there is an objection at a later date.”

“My pleasure, Councillor Kalloe. Moving on, regarding the population implications, I have been assured by our host that genetic samples were taken both before and after all genetic surgeries, and are being compared for which is most viable before allowing the donor to ultimately make the choice on which or both will be included in Colonial stores.”

Several members winced at that. Huynh was the one to speak up. “Can we not come up with a better term than ‘Colonial’? I know we will be establishing a colony on another world, but for several of the cultures on board, the term just has a bad feeling attached to it.”

I raised my hand for attention. “I can take a poll of personnel on the ship. We have not decided on a name for the new planet, anyway, and this gives us a perfect opportunity to decide.” The idea met with unanimous approval, allowing the meeting to move on.

After we adjourned, I found myself trotting briskly down the corridor. “Councillor Hodenson. Councilor Hodenson! Wait up!” They stopped and politely waited for me to catch up. “I have some questions, and I feel like you are the best person to ask, if that’s okay?” They nodded. “You mentioned population implications of the gender affirmations, and genetic material being taken. Please forgive me, but I’m newer to the Council, and I don’t completely understand. Can you explain what that was about?”

“Of course, Sophia,” Grey nodded, pushing their glasses up. “You are likely already aware that the entirety of the ship has temporarily had any reproductive abilities suspended for the duration of the voyage?” It was my turn to nod; while I wasn’t absolutely sure that was the case, I had definitely appreciated not have a menstrual cycle in the entire time I had been on board. “One of the issues that led to the collapse of Earth’s biosphere was overpopulation. Add to that the fact that the ship can only carry a finite number of passengers and is loaded to absolute capacity in all residential spaces, children are not a good idea while we are in transit. So, as we were all brought on board, the Miys provided everyone with an implant that will prevent reproduction until removed.”

“Okay, I’m following, but I have a question: there hasn’t been a religious uproar?”

“Very minimal. Mostly handled from within their particular sect, though largely all handled the same: Any deity who commanded they be fruitful would want them to establish a fruitful colony before a fruitful family. The decline of Earth has been used frequently as an example of how a fruitful family before a fruitful environment was erroneous.”

“That’s fair. Okay, continue please.”

“Gladly. While implanting the reproductive blockers, the Miys also took genetic samples of each person brought on board. This will be used, once we are on Kepler 442b, to start producing children for the new world. We have to establish the settlement first, of course, and the Miys are going to monitor our colonial growth as they allow children, simply to ensure that we can support the new additions. Also, no two children will have the same two parents; the goal is to ensure genetic diversity. At that point, we will still have our reproductive blockers, but once all the genetic material currently on board has been used – and there is enough for each person to provide for two offspring – then reproductive blockers will be removed for anyone wishing to naturally produce additional offspring.”

I gave a low whistle. They were ensuring the best possibility for every single genetic trait on board to be passed down to future generations. It was pretty ingenious. “What about people who don’t want children, or may not be able to care for them?”

“We have just over ten thousand people on board, Sophia,” Grey gave me a skeptical look. “Surely you realize that enough of those come from large families that they would rather have additional children sooner than wait for the ability to produce their own? There is already a triad who requested to go on record as being willing to take in up to twenty children if necessary, even if none are any of their own genetic offspring.”

“It’s like the Duggars,” I muttered, remembering an older family on Earth that had been held up as an example of ‘irresponsible reproduction’ before the End. In only two generations, they had gone from two people to well over a hundred.

“Not quite,” was the chuckled response that let me know I had been heard. “It is very common for plural marriages to produce and/or raise a significant number of offspring, from what my research details. Also, bear in mind that several cultures on Earth practiced plural marriage, even historically. Despite the Christian bloc being the most vocal in the past three centuries regarding monogamy, they also had the oldest historical records of men marrying multiple ‘wives’ and having consorts besides.”

I quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. “Did you grow up Christian? I thought you were Jewish.”

“How you came to that conclusion, I would greatly like to know. No, I did not grow up as part of any Abrahamic religion, actually, although I did grow in in Israel. My parents – all four by the way – were part of a very strict religious sect that emphasized accepting the life we were provided and working hard at what we had. They did not believe in any deity, actually, but also discouraged emotion as “there is no use appealing to an uncaring universe for anything you cannot change”. That apparently included the gender you were born to, as they were very – unaccepting of my nonbinary identity. All of my parents insisted that I was a girl, and should behave as one, marry, and produce a family. None of them accepted that I am not a girl, nor am I a boy. I am just… Grey.”

“Neither fish nor fowl, nor good red meat,” I said with a smile.

“And what does that leave me?” they asked indignantly.

“The vegetables, clearly, which I am heartily fond of! Who has a roast without potatoes and carrots? And a bit of onion, usually. It just isn’t muchy enough if you don’t have vegetables on the side, usually two. I love food, and food need vegetables, all the time. I blame your parents, honestly. All four.” I winked at them as they looked somewhat confused. “Come on, they named you Grey. Neither black, nor white. Both and neither. Grey. I think it suits you.”

“I chose that name, honestly. My birth name – “

“Don’t know, don’t care,” I cut off. “YOU are Grey, you are my friend. Grey is the only name I have ever known for you, and I like it even more knowing you chose it. You did a spectacular job there – it’s very pleasant, in every regard. If you insist on telling me your dead birth-name, I will gladly listen and never call you that name. But know this: that name wasn’t you.”

For the first time, they smiled fully at me. It was gummy and eye-crinkling, and delightful. A very good smile. “I think I would rather you just call me Grey.”

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #original fiction #science fiction #earth is space australia #scifi #aliens #apocalypse

129 notes · View notes

fightmeyeats · 5 years

Video

youtube

With over 125 million views in the month (roughly) since it was released, Lil Dicky’s music video Earth certainly is getting quite a bit of attention, especially (or so I’m told) in the tweenager/young-teenager crowd. The video draws on a wealth of big-name star power, profanity (although there is a “clean” version for children with 16 million views), and humor to convey its “globalized” pro-Earth/pro-Environmental message to a younger audience, before ending with a message about global warming and the twelve-year deadline, with a link to take action through WeLoveTheEarth.org. While there are certainly quite a few issues one might take with the song lyrics and visual representation, what I want to explore are not only the limitations implicit in this approach (namely a very Global North/Ameri-centric “globalized” imaginary, an obscuring of capitalist/corporate responsibility for climate change in favor of a neoliberal individual actions model, a maintaining of the Human/Nature binary, and a focus on a young audience when older demographics are perhaps more in need of convincing), but also the strengths of this approach and why, perhaps, it may be useful to step back and let these “meme-friendly” call-to-arms proliferate, rather than critiquing imperfect representations to death.

Ultimately, because I can see both how strong both the limitations and possibilities to these various approaches are, I am undecided on what the “correct” course of action may be. I recognize that the stakes are higher in this for some than for others--both in the sense that lack of action disproportionately is affecting certain communities, who therefore are more invested in results over perfect representation, as well as the way that because of the disproportionate effects of inaction, certain communities may find it less viable to overlook (and therefore further obscure) these inequalities; because of this, I am certainly not in any position to draw firm conclusions, and what follows is intended to be an exploration which I hope will invite a broader conversation.

Okay so let me start with a rundown of the limitations; while there are several points I’m making here, I am honestly going to try to keep each as succinct as possible because I think these may be more obvious than the benefits (that being said, I’m more than happy to delve into these points further if anyone has any questions or feels they do need to be made more visible). First, lets look at the “globalized” imaginary. The song’s chorus goes:

Earth, it is our planet (It's our planet) We love the Earth (We love the Earth), it is our home (Home) We love the Earth, it is our planet (It is our planet) We love the Earth, it is our home We love the Earth

Other lines include “We love you, India/Africa/the Chinese,” the humorous “We forgive you, Germany,” and “C'mon everybody, I know we're not all the same / But we're living on the same Earth.” These lines simultaneously call for a globalized action, while also imagining a) that something quasi-globalized already exists and b) that “differences” are the reason we have not fully come together. Frederick Cooper has an amazing article which I highly recommend called “What Is the Concept of Globalization Good for? An African Historian's Perspective,” and one of his arguments which is especially relevant here is that "a 'globalizing' language stood alongside a structure of domination and exploitation that was lumpy in the extreme" (204). What does it mean, in this context, to say “we love the Earth,” let alone “we love you, India/Africa/China”? Listing Global South nations which often bare the brunt of capitalist/colonialist industrial exploitation might be intended to acknowledge the uneven effects global warming has on marginalized communities (what Rob Nixon has termed “slow violence”); but then why is Germany on the list (other than for the comedic effect), and more importantly who is the “we” who “loves” these nations, and what does that “love” amount to? I think constantly of Elizabeth Catte’s comment in What You Are Getting Wrong About Appalachia, that she felt paranoid traveling for academic conferences that she would bring the smell of the coal industry with her, and give herself away as someone who wasn’t worth not being poisoned. Love is a beautiful idea to invoke, but do “we” “love” the Global South enough to stop poisoning “them”? And what about the poor in the Global North?

The lack of definition of “we” contributes to my second problem with the song/video: while I do not mean to undermine the absolute value individual actions have towards improving the environment, the opening of the song focuses on litter and the fumes exuded by personal vehicles. There is no direct reference to the kinds of waste and pollution created by corporations.

Thirdly, the lyrics contain a laundry list of humorous animal descriptions such as “Hi, I'm a baboon I'm like a man, just less advanced and my anus is huge.” While obviously intended to be funny, these descriptions reify the Human/Animal and Human/Nature divide and contribute to binary logics. One of the criticisms of the “Anthropocene” narrative is that it seperates “humanity” from “nature” in ways which obscure the entanglement actually involved in environmental networks. This is not in any way to imply that human actions and systems are not responsible for global warming (whether you put the blame on humanity in general as in the Anthropocene or specific individuals acting through capitalism as in the Capitalocene there is no denying that climate crisis is happening because of human action); rather, the problem here is that it this binary attempts to imagine a separateness between humans and nature which is not useful in addressing climate change, because it obscures the intricacy of interaction and allows us to vastly oversimplify what we see as viable solutions.

Finally, the video and lyrics are clearly intended to draw in a younger demographic, and yet polls have shown that there is an age gap in concern about climate change which trends towards younger populations.

That being said, let’s look at why this video may be a good and necessary thing, despite the potential drawbacks. First, even though younger people tend to already believe in and be more concerned about climate change than older folks, studies have shown that children change their parents’ minds about climate change, so convincing children/teens to care about climate change and to talk about it with their parents does have a measurable impact on the opinions of older adults. This leads to why the humorous lyrics and video may be particularly useful, despite the problematics outlined above. At this moment in time, social media and memes in particular are a particularly powerful political weapon. Mother Jones recently ran an article titled ““The Left Can’t Meme”: How Right-Wing Groups Are Training the Next Generation of Social Media Warriors” which outlines the role memes have played in perpetuating conservative and far-right thought and manifesting conservative/far-right desires. Memes are “cheap, subversive, and designed to provoke an emotional response, memes are a disruptive form of information guerrilla warfare.” Another article discussing “The Evolution of Political Internet Memes” argues that “memes are likely to gain more importance in a post-text future. Younger generations are shifting more and more to visual platforms such as Instagram and Snapchat. Images are therefore more likely shape their views on politics and politicians.” For these reasons, a song/music video such as Earth which is likely to draw in a large audience of kids/teens due to star power (everyone from Justin Bieber to Halsey to Kevin Hart makes an appearance), humor, and catchy tune is likely to make an impact on children and therefore their parents. Furthering this point, the website linked at the end of the music video presents itself in a far more professional manner--this is what parents are more likely to be looking at (and potentially donating to, and taking advice from) than the song itself.

So again, I’m not sure whether this benefit outweighs the oversimplifications presented through the lyrics/video but I do think they’re worth considering, and I absolutely invite further conversation on this matter. Do we need to follow the conservative meme-model of making politics more easily legible/accessible? Or does this model further obscure the struggles of marginalized folks and render invisible issues that need to be brought to light and challenged? Is there a (better) way to balance this?

#climate change #global warming #earth #lil dicky #meme culture #political memes #globalization #climate crisis #music #politics #essay #review #somewhat #anyways for real id love engagement on this topic #i know theres a lot to unpack w this

4 notes · View notes

dornishsphinx · 5 years

Note

T, U, and Y!

T: Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

Hmmm hard and fast headcanons that I’d die defending

From SOV, Conrad’s mother was a lady-in-waiting and close friend to Berkut’s mother who came with her to the capital when she married into the royal family. Lima was invited to the capital during the famine because the Rigelians were desperate. He saw her there and demanded she come with him in exchange for aid. (I may also be writing a fic on Conrad’s mother, watch this space ^_^)

Wrt Tellius, the United Bird Tribes eventually fall apart, the specific breaking point coming about due to arguments about over succession. The ravens end up putting forward Naesala and Leanne’s raven son and the hawk population are adamant that he not be considered (some going as far as to say that ravens in general shouldn’t be considered) due to lingering anger, the ravens getting angry in turn and moving to once again declare the independence of Kilvas (and taking a bit more territory with them this time since they’re in a stronger position.)

When it comes to Naesala and Leanne’s kids, the heron girl mostly takes after Naesala in personality, though the raven boy is more similar to Reyson than either of his parents (both also have traits from Leanne, but they’re less noticeable on first impression.) Both can sing galdr due to their mother but, especially for the raven boy, its effects are far weaker. (Maybe let’s say in gameplay terms that raven boy can buff and not actually refresh.)

Their heron daughter on one occasion also accompanies Naesala on a diplomatic mission to Begnion, where she decides to learn beorc magic—with Sanaki’s blessing and occasional direct tutelage—as a way to bypass herons’ inability to fight the laguz way, even staying there for a while when he leaves for his next destination. This is a major scandal in the laguz world.

U: Three favourite characters from three different fandoms and why they’re your favourites.

Oh man, it took me a while to settle on who to talk about, but:

Jason Todd (DC Comics)

Jason is the reason I got into DC generally, so I was already biased, but Jason is interesting because he’s a counterpoint to the idea that Batman knows Gotham City better than anyone, as someone who actively grew up on its streets rather than in the safety of a mansion, and someone who came to a vastly different conclusion on what had to be done to make it safer without being painted (mostly) as a clear-cut villain. Also, he’s a literary nerd and it’s such a cute little detail which is never really brought up explicitly on page but is a recurring thing in the background. The antique book collection in UTRH, reading Pride and Prejudice while in jail, really liking school as Robin, and in other bits I can’t remember the context of.

Where he gets fascinating is on a meta level though. We have the juxtaposition between what modern writers want Jason’s Robin to have been (I really love his run as Robin too, he’s such a cutie in comparison to what he becomes later) and how he actually was written, which kinda comes off as the characters themselves trying to convince themselves of something that isn’t true. And I’ve seen complaints about how people treat his death as being so much more important than others’ deaths when he’d hardly the only DC character to die, but it’s precisely because of real-world circumstances that it’s such a big deal–killed off by poll, left untouched for decades, his costume an ever-present ghost in the Batcave and for the Batfamily–it’s one of those things that can only happen in a big shared comicsverse medium.

I’ll never forgive the New 52 for being the reason we never saw, and can never see now, the Batfamily and Red Hood’s relationship develop.

He just became an ally again randomly in a way that screams editorial mandating “make them get along now, we don’t care how.” They just made everyone do a 180 without bothering to explain why or how and I hate it.

(Also, imo, grey morality Red Hood>outright villain Red Hood AND outright hero Red Hood.)

Laurent (Captive Prince)

Man, I know Captive Prince is controversial, but the story is just so good and even though it’s been a while since I read them, Laurent as a character has stuck with me. (I mean, I adore Damen too, but so many of the character concepts

I’ve come up with since reading the books have been Machiavellian princes shutting themselves off from their emotions, I’m pretty sure Laurent is the source.)

He’s had to adapt to survive the personal hell his uncle transformed the Veretian court into when he (and Damen) got the rest of their family killed—and, at the same time, anyone with the power or desire to protect Laurent from him—when he was just a little kid, and has just built up all the walls around himself. Seeing them slowly peel back and reveal the other sides to him he’s been forced to keep hidden for so long is one of the great things about the series. He’s such a well-realised character, and as you read along, you get to the point where you just need to see him succeed in taking Vere back from his uncle.

He always has the best comebacks too. Nearly everything he says when he’s not awkwardly trying to work his way around emotions he can’t properly express, usually when around Damen, is just pitch-perfect sarcasm even in dire circumstances.

Just a great character overall.

Franziska von Karma (Ace Attorney)

Last time I talked about a favourite Ace Attorney character it ended up being Ema, but I did say she only just beat out Franziska, so it’s her turn now. I’m so sad she’s not reappeared in any of the main games since the original trilogy, though at least we have Investigations. She still has to give Phoenix that card back!

But yes, I just love Franziska. She is very much part of the running theme of legacy families in Ace Attorney with her need to attain perfection and measure up to the Von Karma name, and her relationship with Edgeworth is sweet in a super competitive way. When she comes back later and spends the night trying to solve the puzzle locks to save Maya, you can also see that she has gone through a lot of development over the course of JFA and T&T.

(I maintain that 6-5 would have been vastly improved if she’d taken Edgeworth’s place, and am not entirely convinced it wasn’t originally written with her in mind. I mean, last time she appeared she was undergoing character development and trying to save Maya in a spirit medium-related setting, and this time had Maya being in a perilous situation in a spirit medium-related setting in a foreign country AND she has a history of working with Interpol. It would have actually made sense for her to show up as opposed to the Chief Prosecutor of a foreign country.)

(Also her design is amazing)

(Foolish fool)

Y: What are your second-hand fandoms (i.e. fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

Dragon Age is the big one I can think of. I played a little of Dragon Age Origins before Redcliffe became a never-ending zombie nightmare and I wasn’t able to progress, so I don’t count myself as having really played, but I pretty much know all the spoilers. And have even plotted out who I’m gonna romance when I finally do get around to it. Current plan: Alistair (while pouring one out for the F/F romance with Morrigan that could never be), Fenris and Josephine.

Also Marvel, kinda? I don’t really buy or keep up with Marvel comics anymore aside from going to see the movies. I’ll check it out, but usually it’s only on a whim. (If Agent of Asgard/JiM Loki ever get a run again, you can count on me jumping back in.)

#haha i didn't realise how long the jason bit got oops #my biases are clear #asks

3 notes · View notes

areadersjoy · 6 years

Text

Protect

Summary: *request* Jack ditches town because he doesn’t understand the full capacity of his powers. And when he returns, he takes you on an adventure that you’re not sure that you’re ready for.

Pairing: Jack Kline x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: S13 spoilers kind of? read at own risk.

Note: hey! sorry we haven’t posted in a minute lol. we’ve both been out doing stuff. i’ve honestly been lazy. this was REALLY fun for me to write, as i’ve LOVED this passed season. as you can see this got LONG haha. and with the way this ended? this could be a multi part series? maybe 1/2 more parts? let me know what you guys think! we love your thoughts and feedback. ALSO! don’t forget to vote on our poll! enjoy! - K

Posted: 06/03/2018

Crossing paths with someone like Jack Kline took you completely off guard. For one, you were at a point in your life where you were happy on your own, being independent, as well as being your own person, just doing as most young people did when they were trying to find their way in life. But you had learned pretty early on that trying to shake him was going to be difficult.

Jack was a kind soul. Though you could see he was struggling. There were things he still didn’t know, and couldn’t understand about the world. And despite your efforts to help him understand, nothing seemed to work. It nearly broke your heart to see someone as sweet as him to be at a battle with themselves. And you could see that his brothers, or... whoever these guys he was hanging around with, were truly no help either. Jack just needed help with his powers. He wasn’t going to get them through kind words of encouragement and with angels coming after him and his friends left and right.

So that’s why he took off.

It broke you, at first. Someone you had considered a friend, maybe even more, just getting up and leaving like that? What did that mean? What did you mean to him, nothing? It stung you in all the wrong places. Eventually, the sadness wore off, as it turned into anger. Why would he just go like that?! Without any reason? Without just saying goodbye?! Sure, he was no person, and he wasn’t like any normal person out there, but he had a heart. Or at least you thought he did. Those brothers of his had come to interview you, as if you had known of his whereabouts. But if you had known, you would have went after him in a heartbeat. They were just as at a loss as you were.

It had been a few weeks, maybe even getting closer to months at this point, since you had seen or even heard from Jack. You’d lost count purely due to the fact that you thought keeping count was unhealthy. Plus, if he wanted to stay, he would have. Those brothers of his hadn’t been in a contact with you in a while, and though every part of you wanted to reach out and see if they had heard anything blowing in the wind, you refrained.

For the most part, you had gotten back into the swing of things, gotten your independence back. You felt stupid for opening yourself up in the first place, and being so vulnerable. What kind of person believes in love, right?

You were just walking out of work for the day, your eyes checking your phone for any kind of message, not feeling any kind of surprise when you see that you have... none. That’s when your eyes shoot up, and you feel your heart drop as your gaze lands on a familiar mop of nearly perfectly sculpted blonde hair. But before you can even blink, a car goes by, and the figure is gone.

“Jack?” You let out in barely a whisper, looking in every which direction, and beginning to spin in circles. Had you really just seen him, or had that just been a hallucination. Sure, you’d been obsessing over him for a while now, but... things weren’t getting that bad, were they?

As you feel your heart rate begin to pick up again, you look back to where you had maybe seen him just moments earlier. Without letting any other thought cross your mind, you drop all of the belongings from your arms, and charge towards the road. You didn’t even notice the car heading right at you, until the car was blasting it’s horn right in your ear until it was too late. By that time you had frozen completely and... the car was... in the air, and illuminating some kind of florescent gold or yellow color. You stand there, staring up at the car that could have taken your life just moments earlier due to your carelessness, and watch as it’s slowly set down, and the light disappears, the driver then proceeds to speed off. What was that?

“(Y/N)?” A voice all too familiar asks, making your body tense. You take a moment to gather yourself before turning to face him. This almost didn’t feel real, it was like a dream to see him again. He looked... the same. A lot more peaceful, but... he was still the same Jack.

As you jumble through your own thoughts, you don’t even notice that Jack has made his way towards you, continuing to ask questions.

“Are you alright?” He asks, in the same smooth tone as before, his blue hues locked on your eyes. You blink at him, unsure of exactly how to reply. Talking with Jack was normally easy. It hadn’t been that long, although... it had been long enough for you to be questioning whether or not you were seeing a real Jack and not a mirage of him.

Out of instinct, and maybe out of the pent up anger you had been feeling since his departure, you feel the rage consume you, as you run forward, shoving him as hard as you possibly can.

“You jerk!” You yell at him, watching him furrow his brow, but take the assault. “What the hell were you thinking? How could you just leave without saying anything?! You just--how could you do that? It was so stupid, Jack!” You let out, running a hand through your hair, your breathing becoming a bit heavy as you feel the angered emotions leave, and the sadness overtake you. “You... you didn’t even say goodbye, Jack,” you eventually let out in a much softer tone, not even looking at him at this point.

Jack had taken this all to heart. He knew it wasn’t entirely right to leave all of the people he loved. But at the same time, it was exactly the right thing to do at the time. He had to do it to protect the people he loved most in the world. And to be honest? He would do the same thing again in a heart beat.

After a bout of silence, Jack nods your way, and finds himself taking a step towards you.

“I’m sorry,” he lets out softly.

You weren’t going to forgive him very easily, but... you were willing to at least try. What could you say? Jack was your one weakness in this world.

It had been a week or two since you and Jack had met up once again. And he was still being pretty odd. You had learned that those boys that you thought were his brothers, weren’t actually his brothers. Just some guys--which made more sense now. In retrospect, you should have known that, since Jack had a different last name and all. You didn’t know exactly what Jack was onto, a part from that he wanted to open the gate to some other universe, which... baffled you. He was out there doing things that confused you. Nonetheless, you still supported him. At the end of the day, you just hoped he wouldn’t be leaving you again, anytime soon.

Especially when the Winchesters returned, for they had tracked you and Jack down. For whatever reason, this terrified you to see them again. Especially the older of the two brothers. He hadn’t scared you before, but at this point, he was giving you I hate you vibes. Like you had been keeping Jack from them. Well, you had been keeping him from them the passed few weeks, but before then? You were just as lost as them. An argument went down between the Winchesters and Jack, and it scared you. It scared you because you thought Jack was going to run off again. You could tell just by how he was acting. He resembled a teenage boy who’s parents weren’t letting him get the candy he wanted--or worse, go to the park. Regardless, you had no clue what to do. You had seen the power Jack had encompassed with his time away, and you could see that the Winchesters didn’t believe that he had matured, and this saddened you. Why were they babying him?

“He saved my life,” you spit out, unable to hold it back. They all look your way, and Dean, the older one, shakes his head.

“What does that have to do with anything?” He asks. Though, he had seen this magic Jack had in first person before, so he had an idea of what you were talking about.

“A few weeks ago... I was about to get hit by a car and--!”

“--he pulled you out of the way?” Dean cuts you off, raising a brow.

“No! He... he pulled the car out of the way.”

This causes more tension between you all, but it’s pretty fair to say that you may have helped the Winchesters with trusting Jack a little bit more, even if they had a ways to go.

The day had come, and it was truly a wild ride for you all to get here. You had learned what Jack was doing all those weeks ago without you knowing--he was looking for dream walkers, in search of the correct universe to find Sam and Dean’s mother. And on that search for a dream walker, he had come across a scared, but incredibly sweet girl named Kaia Nieves. You had befriended her almost immediately. Though she was very shy, you felt very drawn to her. Jack was basically using her for her power, so you were doing your absolute best to help her through it.

You all sit anxiously in the ship, awaiting the door to open. Kaia sits with her eyes closed, nearly shaking like a leaf as Jack stands with his hands on her head, his eyes that same golden color as they usually are.

“I see her,” Jack lets out, making Sam and Dean perk up. “No--focus!” But before you know it, a huge light flashes, and Kaia screams. But this time, you aren’t there to hold her hand.

It’s too late.

The next thing you see is a darkened as well as dirty room, with much more dimmed and dusty colors than your used to. Where were you? What was this? Bringing your hands up, you wipe at your eyes, attempting to adjust to your new surroundings.

“(Y/N), are you alright?” You hear the all too familiar voice of Jack ask.

Once again, you find yourself unable to respond. Still, you’re taking in your surroundings, truly not knowing what’s going on. That’s when your sight aligns with that of a blonde woman who seems to be unconscious, shaking you to your very core. You put a hand over your mouth, tearing up immediately.

“Oh my god!” You let out, before you feel arms around you, as Jack pulls you into an embrace.

“Don��t worry, she’s alright. That’s... that’s Sam and Dean’s mom,” Jack says as calmly as he can manage. At this, you look back to the woman from the corner of your eye, doing your best to understand this.

Truly, you had no idea what to think. You knew he was into things like this, but you had no idea that they were actually real, and the fact that you were actually here right now absolutely terrified you. And you supposed that Jack could see that, for he was in a whirlwind of his own thoughts at the moment, too.

“You don’t have to worry, (Y/N),” he pauses, reaching for your hand. This makes you look over with tears in your widened eyes. “I’ll protect you.”

#jack kline imagine #jack line x reader #jack kline fluff #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #gif isn't that great but it's 1 am and this is the best I can do lmao

151 notes · View notes